Broken Ones
by thisisjustavoice
Summary: He was irritating and pathetic, she was lovely and they were different. She was perfect and he was a mess, and it was best for them never to meet again./ It's a meeting on a train, leading to something that noone expected. It's a story about putting yourself back together, when you think you'll never be whole again. It's about love, when you don't think you deserve it.
1. Prologue

Muggle trains.

She'd never been very fond of them. Not of the pathetically ugly design of the seats, not of the gloomy silence between the passengers, and not of the lack of happiness and glee. Muggle trains were everything the Hogwarts Express was not. No one seemed to be truly happy on muggle trains.

She was lucky, though – she rarely hade to ride them, since the magical world offered both brooms and apparition. Even so, sometimes muggle trains were the only alternative.

This time she was traveling to visit Luna down in Wales, where her good friend did some intense research on some new creature she'd heard of – Ginny hadn't quite catched the name. She loved Luna, she really did and could never have imagined a better friend, but why Luna had to go to Wales of all places was a mystery even to her. It wasn't just a short visit, either. Luna was staying there for six months, in a red little cottage in the middle of a deep forest, that no one had cared about since the 1970's. It's roof was awfully close to falling apart – but her slightly crazy friend loved it. And, like the caring person she was, she had invited most of her friends to come visit her. Ginny was one of the few that didn't decline the invitation, and here she was, on a train with a weirdly soft plastic floor, trying her best not to Bat Bogey-hex the man next to her.

He had spent the first hour trying to flirt with her in different ways, none of them appropriate and every new compliment worse than the other. He'd called her boobs for 'cute little kitten butts'. And as if that wasn't enough, the man was also too drunk to sit upright. Ginny was actually starting to worry about him throwing up on her if the train made a sharp turn. The flirting was also very, very wrong in another way – she recognized the man next to her.

It was probably only due to his drunkenness that he didn't recognize her, too – because this drunk man wasn't just someone in the neighbourhood she'd met at the supermarket sometime. The slim, muscular body, the sharp face, the pale chin and the slick hair, so blonde it was almost white – she knew it all too well. She had met this man before, even if it was long since now, and she was almost a hundred percent sure of who he was. She really didn't know how to react.

Because the man next to her was a man she'd wanted revenge on for a long time, revenge for all the things in their Hogwarts years. She'd only given up the thought because of Harry, who had convinced her to let it go, not letting it take up her time.

And she had decided to do so. Letting it go. She had succeeded.

But the man next to her was named Draco Malfoy. Only he was too drunk to seem to remember it himself.


	2. Chapter 1-The Train Neighbour

"I recognize you", said a very non-sober voice after half an hour of snoring. Ginny had been leaning her head against the glass window for a while, dreamily gazing at the rainy weather outside, getting lost in thoughts. She flinched when her attention unwillingly got drawn back to the man next to her.

"Huh", she said, trying to avoid any trace of interest in her voice.

"You totally do, you know, I don't know where I've seen you but I've totally seen you!" Said the blonde man, with a voice so enthusiastic you could think he'd found the antidote of cancer. He definitely wasn't sober, and she was impressed he still could talk.

"That's impossible for me to know. Can you even remember your own name in such a drunk state?"

"Of course I can. Don't be stupid." Draco gave her a demoting look which she definitely had seen before. "You only get more and more alike the person I was talking about, but since you're not behaving very well, I won't tell you who it is." He leaned back in the grey Manchester chair with his arms crossed, ignoring the fact that his strength pushed the chair back so much, the old woman behind him made an angry noise. Ginny scrutinized the train compartment, desperately hoping to find another seat, but this was a popular train and all the seats were occupied.

She really should've used another transport alternative, but Luna had become angry as soon as Ginny mentioned it. This project was very important, she'd said, and broomsticks or apparition would make the creatures annoyed and other researchers curious. You could say a lot of stuff about Luna, but Merlin's beard, you could never say she didn't take her research seriously.

So in her wish to be a good friend, she was hopelessly stuck on this train, and would be so for another three hours. Draco was snoring again, way too loud, but she still found it preferrable to the annoying company that was the alternative.

She wished she'd brought a book in her handbag. She had packed a few, but they were all in her other bag, placed in the other end of the compartment. All she had was a finished report about the Quidditch match between Chudley Cannons and Russian Roses – an English team, actually, consisting exclusively of old ladies that no one understood. They were quite terrible at Quidditch and got angry all the time, so the game could've been pretty thrilling, but it turned out to be just as tedious as Professor Binns classes. She'd been forced to imagine the old ladies playing in only their underwear and with clown hats to keep herself from falling asleep. She still couldn't get the picture out of her mind, but wasn't sure her boss would appreciate her including that in the report. It had been a tough job, not letting that vision influence her, but as she skimmed through it again, she thought she'd done an acceptable job.

She felt a well-known, warm sensation in her jeans pocket. The two-way mirror 3.0, a birthday gift from Harry, was telling her someone was at the other half of it. Ginny stood up, carefully climbed over Dracos legs, and made her way to the bathroom. She wasn't quite sure that people would ignore someone having a public conversation with a mirror, and it was best not to risk it.

The train bathroom was quite clean to be a public one, and she sat down on the floor before answering the mirror.

"Hello, someone there?"

"Yes, definitely." A face she knew very well showed up in the mirror. Harrys hair looked messier than usual – if that even was possible – and he looked exhausted, but still gave her a big smile.

"How's the train ride going? Tired of muggles?"

"It's fine, actually. I don't mind them that much. The train ride is okay, I guess. Boring. And auror training?"

"Tough." Harry reached for his water bottle and took a sip. "We're at the toughest part of physical training, and they've probably changed routines since, but I really can't understand how Mad-Eye and Kingsley got through this part. I'm going to start doing burpees in my sleep soon!" He shook his head and Ginny laughed at the picture her mind made up.

"Mad-Eye never seemed much of a fitness type to me, but what do I know, maybe he just hid his muscles under that coat..."

"Nobody knows." Harry laughed. "I've had three hours of physical training this afternoon and I swear, there isn't a part of my body that doesn't ache."

"Sounds lovely. How's Ron?"

"I'm going to go check on him in a while, I think he might have fallen asleep while changing from his exercise clothes."

"Say hi to him from me."

"I will. When are you in Wales?"

"Two and a half hour. Luna is picking me up at the station, first we're going by bus and the rest afoot. She really must be doing some interesting work, living that far away from civilization.."

"Says the country girl herself. Anything exciting happening on your train?" He yawned.

"Not really." She didn't feel like bringing up her train neighbour – she wasn't necessarily sure it would improve the conversation. "I'm going to buy some dinner soon, that's about it."

"Yeah, well, I have to go. I have to cook dinner for us.."

"With cook, you mean microwave-hex."

"Whatever. Still complicated." Harry rolled his green eyes. "Hear from you soon?"

"Of course. I love you." She smiled at the screen.

"I love you too." Harry turned his mirror off and Ginny found herself staring at her own reflection again. Someone was banging at the door, angry about her errand taking too long. She had no choice but to return to her seat, next to the blonde man which company she so strongly wished to avoid.

When you were used to chocolate frogs and freshly baked cauldron cakes, the train cafeterias dinner alternatives seemed both dull and unappetizing. She was very, very close to asking the cashier where they kept their pumpkin pasties. Eventually she chose a depressing pasta salad with greyish pesto and crumbly feta cheese, paid for it without getting too confused about the muggle money, and made her way back to her seat. Draco still seemed to be sleeping - She silently thanked Merlin for the fact that the snoring part was over for this time, and took a bite of the pasta, careful not to break the featherlike plastic fork in two.

She'd only eaten four pieces of overcooked pasta and one piece of feta cheese when Draco Malfoy started to reveal small signs of consciousness.

"Great", Ginny mumbled. Draco was making all sorts of weird noises, and the expressions on his face made her wish she owned a camera. Oh, what a sweet revenge for all the stuff this man did at Hogwarts… it was really too bad Harry wasn't the revenge type.

"Hannah Abbott", said Draco without warning.

"What?"

"That's you, right? I remember you."

"Hannah Abbott? Eh, no." She wasn't sure if she should be relieved or disappointed about him having trouble with remembering her name.

"Dammit. I'm terrible at names." The blonde man patted the gold ring on his ring finger. "When I'm drunk, I sometimes forget my wife's name, too. I've called her a few times in that state, and she gets SO mad." Draco didn't seem to care the slightest that at least fifty other passengers heard everything he said. "Sometimes I call her Pansy, which seems to make her the angriest woman in town. Other names aren't quite as bad, but she turns her mirror off either way. She's such a bitch!" He laughed with his mouth wide open, and Ginny felt the odour of old beer and… other things. She considered giving him her toothbrush and toothpaste, but she would need it herself later. The disgusting smell grew stronger – Draco now had his face approximately 10 centimetres from hers, staring at her while obviously waiting for a reply.

"Maybe she doesn't want you to forget her name. It's actually very cold-hearted to forget the name of someone you're married with."

"That's how it works if you like getting drunk. Which I do."

"Uh-huh." Ginny wasn't an expert, but she felt pretty sure Draco had a problematic relation with alcohol. She couldn't explain why, but a part of her certainly felt worried.

"The muggle shit can actually be better than firewhiskey sometimes!" He gave her a smile and she felt his disgusting breath again. The whole compartment were staring at them by now.

"I don't drink much."

"You're missing out." A laugh and a smile again. Then he quietened, and his expression turned serious. Ginny tried to move as far away from him as she possibly could, but it wasn't necessary. Draco had put his hand in his hair, making some sort of gesture that she figured was a thinking one.

"I'm hungry", he said, after half a minute in that thinking-position. Then, before she had the possibility to stop him, he stuck his hand down in her food box and filled his hand with pasta. Ginny couldn't do anything but stare. Now she sure as hell wasn't eating that.

"What?" Draco had his mouth full of food, and he was ignoring it the same way little kids do. It's barely okay for kids to stuff their face and talk with food in their mouth like that, with grown men it's just disgusting, Ginny thought.

"That wasn't very polite."

"You weren't eating it anyways." He swallowed loudly.

"Yeah, well, now I'm definitely not. " She pushed the box over to him, trying not to think about the fact that she was 1) giving away food like that, 2) giving it to Draco Malfoy. It really was too awful to think about.


	3. Chapter 2-Rainbows

Draco stayed quiet under the rest of the train ride. Ginny didn't mind. The rain that had been pouring outside under a big part of their trip was over, and a magnificent rainbow had appeared instead. She watched the stunning light phenomenon, trying to capture its beauty in a picture her mind could save. She'd always had a thing for rainbows, had always admired their heavenliness. As a little girl, she always stopped whatever she was doing just to run out in the garden, just to be able to see that rainbow more clearly. She strongly remembered one specific time, when her family was having dinner together and a rainbow appeared – she had dropped her fork right on the wooden table and run outside. Leaving the dinner table without explanation was not appreciated – she went to bed hungry that night, but still didn't regret her choice. Eventually, she'd learned to control the impulse a little, but every time she saw a rainbow occur, she had to stand still for a moment just to fully embrace its beauty. She had to.

Draco Malfoy liked rainbows, too. He had memories connected to them, both good ones and bad ones, but overall, he liked them. They stood out wherever they took shape, they didn't have to blend in, and they never failed to be beautiful. Rainbows were so breath-taking, so real despite of the fact that they were only an illusion created by light.

Rainbows were of great use in metaphors – they're only an illusion, but still exist, and their existence is noticed. They had quite a few resemblances with the monsters in his head.

The monsters no spell could kill, the monsters no words or actions could erase. He'd tried making them pleased, which explained the thin red scars on his underarms, but it didn't help. Eventually, he'd discovered that alcohol quietened them for a while, and he had welcomed that solution. He knew it was unhealthy, but it helped, and everything was better than listening to their high, sharp voices all day long – telling him how worthless he was, how worthless everyone thought he was, how extremely big his inadequacy was, how he should just die because no one would miss him. Maybe he looked pathetic when he sat there, by himself in a slovenly muggle bar at 1.30 AM, in the corner with a disgusting drink in his hand – but it was way better than the alternative. He could take the hangover, he could take his wife screaming at him, he could take it, because it told him absolutely nothing he didn't already know.

Draco had never learned about these monsters at Hogwarts. He may not have paid very high attention in Care of Magical Creatures – in fact, the only thing he truly remembered from those classes was the time he almost got his arm chopped off. These monsters attacked from the inside, like a poisonous draught – but Snape hadn't mentioned them, either. According to wizard knowledge and text books, monsters like this didn't seem to exist. And yet, if someone would've asked him, he would've answered that they were the worst kind of all. No physical shape meant no chance to use Stupefy or Avada Kedavra. He had yet to find a spell that could help better than the ways he had. And no one would ever help him, because Draco Malfoy, who had once been a popular and admired boy in school, was both shy and lonely nowadays.

He looked out through the window and wondered if rainbows ever felt lonely. Probably not. After all, light clearly lacks feelings. He observed the woman next to him instead. He still couldn't remember her name, but her flaming red hair was so beautiful when it spread out over her face. Her movements were so perfect as she leaned back into her chair, lost in thoughts. She was painfully attractive and hot and ravishing, but it was best not to think about it, because it didn't matter. He was irritating and pathetic, she was lovely and they were different. Draco wouldn't see her ever again. And it didn't matter, because he could barely remember what he had said to her and he was still sure it had been horrible.

The unevitable headache was approaching, coming closer and closer, and he silently swore to himself to never get drunk again, already knowing how great he would fail.

The redhead was now reading something she'd written in a notebook the exact colour of her hair, and he desperately hoped that he wasn't mentioned.

She was perfect in the way her hand gripped the pencil, in the way her brown eyes glittered when she did. She was perfect and he was a mess, and it was best for both of them never to meet again.

~3 months later~

When Draco Malfoy was a young boy, he had thought of Diagon Alley as something that never rested, never became empty or deserted. That's because the young, blonde boy, still playing with toy broomsticks, only knew the Diagon Alley as the place his parents took him to when he needed new clothes. And young Draco had loved walking down the old and beaten brick stones, watching all the people rushing in and out from shops. His father would say Hi to some people, introduce Draco and his mother, and Draco knew that the people Lucius Malfoy said Hi to, they were people worth talking to. That's what his parents taught him, and since most children believe their parents almost unconditionally until they reach a certain age, he believed it. He had been taught about the people not worth saying Hi to, the _mudbloods_ and they were not to talk about, they were something unwelcomed, almost poisonous. Why they were different, he had no idea, but the people his father gave negative looks, those people were either mudbloods or blood traitors. The little boy had no idea about why there were differences in how you treat people on the street, but he still followed the rules.

Even if the little boy was unsure which people to talk to and which people to stare at, he had loved visiting Diagon Alley. It was alive, loud and noisy, wild and untamed, messy, happy and filled with different people. Diagon Alley was all the things the empty corridors he called home wasn't.

The young boy that had existed so long ago could've never pictured an empty Diagon Alley, but twenty-three year old Draco knew better. He may prefer drinking at muggle bars where he could be sure that nobody knew him, but he always finished his nights at Diagon Alley.

It was 3.54 in the morning now, the alley was dark and all the stores likewise. It was cold, especially with only a thin men's coat, but the corner he'd found was safe from the wind.

It was 3.55 in the morning, and he knew that he could go home.

It was 3.56 AM, and every normal person would've gone home instead of staying in a dark corner of Diagon Alley, sitting cross-legged on the ground.

It was 3.57 AM, and his wife would be furious with him when he came home.

He wasn't even drunk this night, he was just lonely and pathetic and really, really sad. Draco didn't want to be home, he didn't want more people screaming at him, he couldn't, couldn't take it. A lonely night in a corner of Diagon Alley could seem depressing, but to him, it was clearly preferrable to the alternative. The stones underneath him were not wet, but ice-cold nonetheless, and he shivered, thinking of the bed that awaited him at home if he was brave enough to go there. But he wasn't brave enough – The odds that he would be thrown back out on the streets were too big, he didn't have any explanation to what he had done, and he just couldn't take the angry looks Astoria would give him. Couldn't.

The moon still shone bright in contrast to the sky, and he wondered how long he would have to wait until dawn.

"Can't be long until dawn now", said Harry and gave the moving planets on his wrist a quick look. "We should head home."

"You don't have auror training tomorrow."

"No, that's exactly why I need to take care of my unfamiliar and abnormal opportunity to rest." He laughed a little. "It's not every day I have that."

"I know. After all, I'm the one that stays up waiting for you." She gave him a light kiss on the forehead, just a little to the right of the faded scar. They had shared a pleasant night out, laughing and talking and kissing, playing board games with Neville and Hannah at The Leaky Cauldron. They hadn't even noticed how late it became until Hannah jumped up from her chair, telling the guests it was closing time.

Going straight home seemed boring, even though the night air of late august was chilly. A walk had seemed much more tempting, a chance to talk about the things they so seldom had time to talk about. With Harry's auror training and Ginny's reporter job, their conversations were often both quick and lifeless, handling only the most necessary subjects – what would they have for dinner, how was work, do you feel like staying awake or going to sleep. Five days a week. Then the weekend came and Harry wanted to catch up at sleeping, that was, if he didn't have extra auror training. Ginny was sick of it by now. But her family loved Harry so much, she did love him too, they had so much history and memories, shared the same friends and interests.

Sometimes it all just seemed so predictable. And she was happy with things that way. But something in her heart, so deep in that it did hurt to reach it, reminded her that predictable wasn't always her favorite thing.

She liked predictable in the way of knowing that you had a home,money and a job, in the way of knowing that the people close to you were all healthy and happy, she liked predictable as in knowing there weren't any wars going on in the wizarding world right now.

She just had a burning love for unpredictable every now and then.

"I'm exhausted", said Harry when they reached the street where they had their apartment. "So I suggest we go home and sleep."

"Do that", answered Ginny. "I think I'm going to walk around for a bit, just to clear my head."

"You'll be fine without me? Your guardian?"

"Of course. You know very well that I can be my own."

"If you say so." He yawned, kissed her quickly, and started walking towards the entrance to their apartment. Ginny watched him every step of the way, and then, when the door slammed shut, she started walking the other way in a rushed pace.


	4. Chapter 3-A meeting

Draco felt cold. Sharp, numbing, cold. The feeling had been distant at first, not taking up that much of his depressing thoughts, but its strength and intensity had grown over time. By now, he was shivering, his teeth slamming against each other in short and rhythmic pulses. He wished the thought of wearing something more warming had come to him earlier, but it was too late. All he had was a light, charcoal black coat, and it felt far from enough. He was cold, he was alone and his body screamed that there were simple solutions, alcohol could take care of this feeling, end it, deafen it all. But he had none, he was too weak to get some, and the exhaustion had begun to tear at his relationship with it. All Draco could do was wait – for time to pass, for morning to come, a morning that made his wife leave for work, leave their apartment to Draco.

He knew that they couldn't go on like that forever, but it was a minor issue. Their relationship was so non-existent a relationship between two married people could be. An eventual divorce would, however, be the first one ever in Astoria's family, and Draco had tried bringing it up, but it never seemed to end particularly well. She refused – she would tear up, cry, scream at him. Say that he'd never survive without her. Blame him for all their problems.

Maybe she was right. Maybe he was the cause for all of them.

Draco knew that a divorce wouldn't matter to him. His boss at the ministry was very, very close to fire him due to the fact that he rarely showed up. The friends he once had were now distant to him, some of them strangers, even. His life circled around survival, different ways of it, and methods to deal with the pain. If he had the energy too care that day – some days he didn't. Some days, even survival seemed meaningless to Draco.

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Ginny felt the wind brush against her cheek every half-running step of her way, but the cold didn't bother her. Actually, she didn't feel cold at all, for she felt alive and free and she was clueless about her destination. She moved away from an unemptied garbage can someone had knocked over, slowed down when her heels made too loud noises, careful not to wake anyone up. After all, The Daily Prophet had their loyal spies everywhere, and she was a girl of many theories and tales. Harry Potter's wife running down Diagon Alley in the middle of the night – That would be a great headline, and she knew it. She could take it. The only thing that mattered right now was getting to the place she didn't know, the place she just had a mysterious feeling about. She knew she had to get there. She had no idea about why, and a part of her brain thought it absolutely ridiculous, but there was also excitement in her thoughts, and that lovely, lovely whisper about unpredictable.

The corners of Diagon Alley she now approached were unknown to her. Born into a wizard family, she had come her often ever since she was a baby, and she knew that diverging from the main street very likely ended up with an unwanted visit to Knockturn Alley, trying not to talk to the people offering you candy. It could also lead to some dark, mysterious corners of London, or just to the plain apartment areas. But unless you were a hundred percent sure about your destination, you stuck to the main road. That was the definite and absolute rule. You didn't break it, and if you still felt the urges, you thought about the tell-off your mother would give you – a method the Weasley kids used often. The Diagon Alley rule was not meant for breaking.

Except for now. She had caught a glimpse of something moving a couple of metres ahead, and was now heading for it without even asking herself why. She knew she needed to.

Draco Malfoy was all of a sudden hearing sounds. It made him feel queasy, wondering if he was really going insane – hearing things, seeing things. They sounded like footsteps, which could have a natural explanation. It could be a shop-owner rushing past him in his way to the shop, but it was Sunday tomorrow and none of the shops opened early. He didn't think it was muggle cops, the men and women with serious faces, scrutinizing looks and nice costumes, the men and women that got so angry with him the time he had been forced to admit he did not own a Muggle ID. They helped him with the process of getting one, and Draco now carried it in his wallet at all times. It was indeed a very smart way to get into bars without a Confundus charm. So he was thankful to the muggle cops, he really was, but them finding him in a deserted alley felt… bad. He hoped this wasn't corners they controlled, because he was not sure if they belonged to Diagon Alley or to London.

It could be a manic shop owner, it could be a cop, or it could be another... person like him. What sort of lunatic took a walk in deserted corners, in the middle of the night?

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Click, click, and click. Her heels were making sounds as they repeatedly hit the rectangular stones of Diagon Alley, and she did not want to slow down now. She desperately hoped she wasn't waking anyone up. She would've worn her usual basket shoes, but high heels fitted much better with the black, knee-long dress she wore for tonight. It was one of her favourite dresses, showing off the little curves she had in a satisfying way. Even if Ginny was your typical hoodie and jeans girl, she definitely enjoyed dressing up once in a while.

But it would've been better if she had skipped it tonight. The dress was indeed very lovely, but in combination with the heels and the bare legs, she could easily be mistaken for a young woman who had partied a bit too hard and now was too drunk to find her way home.

Ginny knew her way home. Her brain kept telling her it was late, that this was stupid, that she didn't know the streets, that she should go home before Harry started worrying. But there was also another voice, one who told her that Harry slept too hard to notice anything. She could stay away till morning if she felt like it. Did she feel like it? Oh, if she did.

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Draco Malfoy heard the sounds growing louder and louder, their source coming closer and closer. He was now so cold that his body had stopped caring, making him numb instead. Turning off his senses to save energy. He liked it. Numb felt better, numb was empty and non-caring and zero. Relief. He realised that he had to move if he were to face another human being, that his still body could give an expression about him being unconscious, eventually bringing unnecessary attention. Every bone and every inch of skin hurt at the bare thought of moving, but he slowly made his way up to a half-standing position. A small improvement, but an improvement nonetheless. He was just trying to fix the emotionless expression on his face when the human whose steps he'd listened to for a while strode into the narrow alley.

For a few seconds, Draco considered the possibility that he was hallucinating due to lack of sleep and nutrition.

He recognized this woman – for it was a woman – who'd walked into his alley. She was wearing a black, tight party dress with a few sequins along her neck, and not the striped sweater he'd seen her in before, and her slim legs were bare instead of hidden in baggy jeans. But he could easily identify the auburn hair, the captivating face and the hazel eyes that gave him an examining look. He had seen this woman before, and even if the alcohol level in his blood had made him forget bits of it, he knew he had talked to her. He knew that he had made a fool out of himself. If he were her, he would have turned around immediately to run the other way. Every sane person would've turned around. This woman stood still.

Ginny Weasley couldn't believe her eyes. Perhaps she didn't want to. She had met this man once, and that had been unpleasant enough. She had met him many times before, too, of course, but Draco Malfoy didn't seem to be the young and arrogant teenager he'd once been. She understood that much.

He had lost weight since she saw him, but not in a good way. Now he just looked malnourished, even skinnier than he had been in his Hogwarts time. Even aside from that, his appearance didn't really shine. The hunched position, the coat way too cold for this night, the thin arms that hugged his own torso, desperate for some warmth.

He had seen her, too – he was inspecting her with the expression of a scientist, completely silent. They stood like that for a short moment, observing each other. Ginny knew she was supposed to walk away, walk home, to the apartment where Harry waited. But she didn't move, and Draco didn't, either. They remained in their positions, a distance of ten yards and a whole lot of silence between them.

"I won't hurt you", She said after a while. "But do you have a home or do you always spend your nights like this?"

"Not important." He sighed. "You shouldn't talk to me."

"Because you were drunk as hell last time? Don't act like you don't remember. I can see you do."

"Yes. Because I was drunk, because I must've said awful things. I couldn't remember your name, for example."

"Can you now?"

"No. We went to Hogwarts at the same time, but we weren't really friends and I don't think you were a Slytherin, so I probably hated you."

"Yeah. Gryffindor." She had no idea why she even told him this.

"I definitely hated you. But I'm over that now. People don't care about me anyway." He gave her a small grimace.

"That's not the Draco I remember from my school time. People used to care about you a lot."

"That Draco is gone, whether I want him to be or not. Excuse me, but who exactly are you?"

"You sure you don't remember me? We've never been friends, really, not even close. I have plenty of reasons to hate you, your family, your dad… Let's just say I've dreamt about vengeance a few times." She shifted position a little, trying not to turn into an ice cube. Not moving sure made the cold more intense.

"If you've come to seek vengeance, go get it. Nothing will stop you."

"I don't think I need to. Looks like you're doing a pretty good job yourself." She took a few steps forward, dramatically shortening the distance between them. "Why are you hiding here? Why aren't you home? You've never seemed like the type who risked ending up on the streets."

"I have a home." She could see he was getting tired of discussion by now. "But you're not home either. " The expression on his face almost looked like a smile.

"I took a walk with my husband after a night at the Leaky Cauldron. He wanted to go home. I wanted to walk a bit further."

"Further indeed. Still doesn't explain why you're talking to me. You said it yourself, we're far from friends. I don't get it." Draco looked deeply frustrated. She watched him in silence, wondering how long he'd went without conversations this long. She couldn't help feeling sorry for him, but like he'd said, why, oh why, couldn't she just ignore him? Merlin knew that's what she would've done, if he hadn't looked so miserable.

"I don't completely get it, either." Ginny shook her head. "But you don't look like the Draco I remember. You look like someone who needs help, and right now, a roof to stay under tonight." She held out her hand.

"Ginny Weasley, Potter to be, but it's unimportant for now. I have a feeling in my guts that I need to help you in some way, and I know it's weird, but please, trust me when I say I can make sure you come indoors before this weather", she pointed to the enormous rain clouds that were shaping above them, "gets even worse. So consider it."

Another minute of silence, Draco looking at her with half confused and half sad eyes. Then he held out his hand too, and Ginny tried her best not to think about the fact that she was shaking hands with Draco Malfoy.

If someone had told her 12 year old self that, that little girl would've panicked.


	5. Chapter 4-Generosity

The rain had already begun its way down from the clouds as Draco made his way after Ginny. He was now very wet, in addition to his coldness, and it was distinctly unpleasant, but he fought to ignore it.

He knew very well who Ginny Weasley was, he knew who she was engaged to – the Daily Prophet had been absolutely hysterical about it, making sure everyone knew. He knew about her former quidditch career in the Holyhead Harpies, about how she'd quit half a year ago to try a journalist career. He knew everything media had told him. And she had been a name he would be instinctively drawn to when found in a newspaper, there was no denying. She was a perfect example of all those he'd bullied who'd ended up living so much better lives than him. Karma's a bitch.

Yes, Draco doubtlessly remembered Ginny, but why he hadn't recognized the redhead was a question he couldn't answer. Maybe his brain was too chaotic, too destroyed, or maybe he just didn't want to remember. No one knew for sure. The thoughts were spinning around in his head on highest speed, but he still marched on, legs almost numb.

 **~flashback~**

The first thing Draco realised when waking up was an excruciating pain in his legs. He couldn't remember what they'd been through, but as he ran his hand over them, it became sticky. Not a good sign. He felt dizzy, almost like someone had drugged him. Maybe that was the case, since the only thing he saw when trying to remember last night was a total blur. It was dark around him, too dark to see anything clearly, but there had to be some sort of light coming in – Dracos eyes were slowly adjusting, making his eyesight the best possible for the situation. He still couldn't see much, but he could make out some sort of cloth hanging in front of him, and when he felt the material, he knew instantly where he was. Imprisoned in his own wardrobe.

Humiliating, but not the first time. If everything was following the usual schedule, he knew both who had put him in there and the fact that searching for his wand was meaningless.

The beacon of light, which he now realised came from the wardrobe doors not being entirely shut, widened, and a clicking well known to Draco's ears sounded. He took a deep breath, knowing very well what would happen next. He barely had time to brace himself before the doors flew wide open and the first blow hit his chest. He didn't protest and he didn't try to fight back. He already knew how little it was worth it.

And he knew that he couldn't flee. He had no one to flee to. And who would believe that Draco Malfoy, former death eater with a family of rich snobs, was being abused in his own relationship? Who?

 **~end of flashback~**

The world made a quick flash in front of Draco's eyes when he was dragged back to here and now. He was leaning against a brick wall, thankfully with a small roof over him, because the rain was now coming down in buckets and the sound from it made it hard for you to hear your own thoughts. Draco gave Ginny a hasty glance, trying to analyse if they were going somewhere in this hysterical weather, but she wore too much of a poker face for him to understand anything.

"My friend has a flat nearby, which I have an extra key to. She's not home, so I suggest we go there", she said suddenly, as if reading his mind.

"I still don't understand why you're doing this."

"No, neither do I, really, but something about you makes me feel that you don't deserve a life on the streets. Not for real."

"I don't know. Where else can you go if you don't want to go home?"

"To a friend's place, maybe? Most people do go home, though."

"Not you, apparently."

"I know. I considered it, but I decided to try helping you first." She scrutinized the weather with a concentrated look. "It's not raining just as much now. We can go." And so she strode off in the rain, and Draco half-ran after her, thinking that he really didn't feel any difference in the rain's intensity.

Even though Draco was doubting it for a while, Ginny was right about the apartment not being that far away. It only took five minutes for them to get into a shabby-looking apartment house, but those minutes were enough for Draco to get dripping wet. He had ironically enough been too wet and cold to cast an Impervius spell over himself, and he regretted it now, when he saw that Ginny was completely unharmed by the weather.

"Forgot an Impervius?" She gave him a half smile and he tried to ignore the warm jolt his stomach did.

"You're not bad at guessing" He shuddered. "Too cold to reach for my wand." She rolled her eyes, but flicked her own wand nonetheless. Draco couldn't help but smile when he felt the warmth flow through his body.

"Thought that would make you feel better. Now, three stairs up." She led the way, gracefully avoiding old gum and different dirt marks in the cement stairs, and he tried to shake away the thought about how bizarre all this was. Nothing could make this feel real right now. A part of him was still suspecting he'd fallen asleep on the streets, that Ginny was just part of an incredibly illogical dream.

The door to the apartment on the fourth floor opened, and Draco was very, very close to pinching himself in the arm.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He had never seen anything like this apartment. It was small, consisting only of one room plus a kitchen and a bathroom, but it must have been the most decorated apartment he had ever seen. The wooden floor was painted blue like the sky, but had paint stains from more colours than he knew the name of. The floor had only one carpet, placed in the middle, and it was blue with a moving bronze raven, meaning this apartment belonged to a Ravenclaw. The roof was covered in portraits, some of people, some of animals, and he could only recognize about a fourth of the people. And the walls… they were covered in so many different things he didn't know where to start. There were mind maps, more paintings, big sheets of silk with all the colours of Hogwarts houses, an extra big sheet with the Ravenclaw logo, long threads with pearls on them… Draco could see a king-size bed in a corner, a sofa with so many pillows he wasn't sure if there really was a sofa underneath, big bookshelves with space not big enough for all the books, lining them up in piles on the floor instead, and there was an enormous table with mismatched chairs, covered in papers and maps and sketches and magazines.

"It's a lot to take in, this apartment", said Ginny.

"You. Don't. Say." Draco felt like someone had cast a Stupefy over him. He really needed to sleep, but sleeping inside without constantly being afraid felt almost surreal. "I still don't understand why you let me sleep here."

"I get that." She nodded. "I don't completely get it either. But you know what?" Her dark brown eyes, the colour of hazelnuts, met his blue ones. "I hated you for a long time. You were an asshole when we met at that muggle train. But something with you tells me you have your reasons. I don't think you sleep on the streets because you like it. You're not drunk right now, at least not visibly –"

"I'm not, I promise."

"– and I have a really strong feeling that you need help. So I helped you."

"It's way too generous."

"There is no such thing as too generous. I'm many things. I'm impulsive, I stand up for people, I can be bossy, but I'm not a mean person and I will never be. I've seen too much. And I don't believe that there can be _too much_ kindness in this world." She took a few steps into the room. "Make yourself at home. Try not to destroy anything, but if you do, it's fine, because Luna will only think a crumplehorned snorkack have been here and she would be head over heels about that." Draco followed her, accidentally stepping on the Ravenclaw carpet. The eagle gave him an angry squeak and he quickly jumped off.

"Don't stand on that thing. It hates everyone who's not in Ravenclaw. Especially Slytherins, I think. Hufflepuffs are okay, though, I don't think it knows what a Hufflepuff is. "

"Will you come back?"

"Tomorrow. Sleep tight." She gave him another smile, causing another jolt in his stomach. Then she left.

Draco really, really wanted to sleep. He was tired to the point where dizziness surrounded him, and he would find himself dozing off every two minutes or so, just to immediately wake up again. He was hopelessly awake, and the dire lack of sleep in his body tore at the insides, and he felt helpless and alone and so, so tired. But he was afraid of sleeping, because if he fell asleep, he knew how unpleasant waking up would be. Sometimes it was cold, sometimes burning hot and sometimes just really painful. Sometimes the physical pain was none, sometimes the abuse came in verbal form. Voices in his head screaming, or a voice from the outside who screamed just as loud and almost exactly the same things. She was asleep next to him, and Draco wanted to flee, apparate somewhere, but the apartment had a spell forbidding just that. She was sleeping right next to him, and he was so afraid.

He turned around. The only thing next to him was some pillows in odd patterns.

He suddenly remembered, and finally fell asleep.

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Silence was what surrounded Ginny when she quietly turned the brass door knob and stepped into their apartment. It was dark, illuminated only by moonlight from the enormous living room windows. Harry probably slept too deep to care if she slipped into their bed now, but then again, he slept until early afternoon whenever he got the chance. And she had thought of the Holyhead Harpies training as tough… She was actually considering trying out again. After all, they only seemed to constantly whine about how much they missed her. But there were plenty of other things to think about right now.

She had left Draco in Lunas apartment. Very, very impulsive of her, probably the most impulsive thing she'd done in a very long time, but it still felt right. He needed it. She had to check up on him tomorrow, had to bring him breakfast. But first, she needed to sleep. So she washed her face with a flick of her wand, quickly changed into a Harpies pyjamas, and before she'd fully closed her eyes, sleep had come to greet her.

But the pleasure of sleep didn't last very long, and for the record, it wasn't even pleasant. Ginny found herself thrown from one dream to another, each one more odd and complex than the other. She dreamed about Draco, about a teenager who behaved like shit but later hid in the bathroom crying his eyes out. She dreamed about Lucius, angrier than she'd ever seen him, screaming words she couldn't hear – they didn't feel like very kind ones – and a little boy hiding in a corner, ears covered with small, scratch marked hands. She dreamed about the fireplace in Gryffindor's common room, about roasting marshmallows with her friends, laughing and joking. She dreamed about Harry, about their very first kiss after that Quidditch game, but also about waiting and waiting in their couch for a man who finally messaged her that he slept at the ministry. Memories she had and memories that didn't belong to her, leaving her with a deep feeling of unease in her stomach.

The alarm clock showed 8.12 AM. Harry slept like a baby, making noises every now and then. The bitter feeling the dreams had left her still felt strong, and normally, she would've leaned over to kiss her fiancé, but this time, she just couldn't bring herself to. So she chose the other option – she carefully crawled out of bed, changed to a striped tank top, jeans and a cardigan, spended about five minutes in the bathroom, quickly scribbled down a few words on a paper and left the apartment.


	6. Chapter 5-Confessions

**Chapter 5; Confessions**

Alcohol had always been something very familiar to Draco.

As a child, as the shy and vulnerable little boy he'd been, he had hated it. He had hated the substance when he understood the bond between bottles on the dinner table and the deafening screams that echoed through the manor later at night. He hated it when he sat in a forgotten corner of their unnecessarily enormous house, making himself as small as possible, wishing he'd just disappear altogether. And he hated it when he woke up the next morning, feeling the odours of wine and vomit mixed together in an unforgettable but disgusting combination.

But Draco was a kid. Kids learn from their parents, even if involuntarily. A part of him associated alcohol with a resolution to problems, because that was how his father always spoke of it. Those words sat deeply rooted in Draco's head. Very, very deeply.

So when the abusive behaviours started appearing in his already unsteady relationship, he had went for the solution his father had taught him to. He got himself drunk. Very drunk, very often. With friends in the beginning, but as his behaviour worsened, more and more often all alone. It didn't really matter. It tasted the same, absolutely gross at first but quickly improving as he got used to it.

And the feeling it gave. Like he was flying, not on his broom but all by himself, all his problems drifting away like clouds on a lovely summer day.

The day after was worse. But there were spells for everything, and when he learned the trick about how to cast them, he could use it and repeat the cycle again. Live his life in a triangle. Drink alcohol. Cast a spell to avoid the hangover. Work a little, try to act normal. Drink more alcohol again.

It worked for a while. It worked fine, actually. Except for the fact that the alcohol made him gain weight.

He drank too many unhealthy calories, ate too few healthy ones. He needed to change his behaviour.

So he continued with the drinking and the hungover-curing spells, but stopped eating and learned how to puke. Nasty, yes, but easy to control. Draco strongly decreased his intake of food while increasing his intake of alcohol, and later got rid of it all in a public bathroom somewhere.

Eventually, he'd gotten tired of that circle too. His body was as tired of drinking and puking as he was. The short-term solution had become an addiction, and a dangerous one. He was beat, consumed. So now, he just existed, wallowing in silent self-pity. Trying to keep it to himself, tried not to let anybody notice the cracks climbing upwards the walls. He painted them over, painted them over again. Tried to hide the cracks with paintings and mirrors. Tried to glue the wall together, tape it together. He tried to ignore the cracks, but they were still here, laughing relentlessly at him. He couldn't fix them. His only choice was to shut his eyes to their existence and try not to think about them, always failing.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The cashier at Tesco gave her the"I've-haven't-had-nearly-enough-coffee-today-and-I-hate-my-life" look as Ginny walked into the muggle shop. She couldn't help but feel a bit of sympathy for him – as jobs go, the cashier role seemed incredibly boring compared to being, for instance, an auror.

But then again, maybe cashiers came home at a decent hour. Maybe cashiers had time for _some_ other hobby than their work. Maybe working as a cashier wasn't that bad...

She thought about all this as she filled her green plastic basket with groceries. Draco would need to eat more than the three canary crackers Lunas cupboard contained for the moment. He'd been distinctly overweight when she'd met him three months ago – now he looked malnourished, beaten up, miserable.

Harry would do the same thing, she tried to convince herself as she paid for the food. Hermione would do the same thing. Ron would do the same thing. Okay, probably not Ron. Or Hermione, or Harry. She couldn't even make sense of why _she_ was doing it. She only knew the definite need she had for trying to help this man. And when Ginny Weasley had decided to do something, she didn't do it half-heartedly.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Even though Draco loved the king-size bed, he slept very poorly. Everything in this apartment smelled of someone else. It smelled of happiness, and passion, and someone actually caring about their life.

He didn't want to leave. He never wanted to leave. This apartment was completely alien to him, but felt safer than any place he'd ever lived. Draco wished he'd had an apartment like this, where the furniture and decorations were personal, where there were photos of actually happy people on the walls. Where the air smelled of good memories, and he practically could see people hanging out in the sofa, laughing and roasting marshmallows over a magical blue fire. This apartment was, for Draco Malfoy, a fairy-tale.

He'd only gone through half of the process of getting dressed when someone unlocked the door.

"Oh. Sorry." Ginny was carrying two green plastic bags from a muggle supermarket, and looked just as embarrassed as Draco about his half-nakedness.

"Just woke up", he muttered, even though it was a lie.

"Yeah... It's okay." She nodded, gave him a feeble smile. "I've brought you some food."

He suddenly felt the hunger pains he until now had managed to ignore. Alcohol usually deafened them, but he hadn't had any yesterday. He was starving, every inch of his body screaming for nutrition. "That's... you didn't have to. It's more than I deserve."

"Stop it." Her eyes had a tired look about them. He wondered how much she'd slept – the bags under her green eyes told him it wasn't much. "I wanted to do this." She disappeared into the kitchen to unpack her bags, and Draco once again remembered that he was, in fact, half naked.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Draco was apparently really, really hungry. She wondered when he'd last had eaten a proper meal – she'd grown up with six brothers, one of them Ron, but his stomach capacity still shocked her.

"This bread is delicious", Draco said after his fifth slice with ham and tomatoes.

"Glad you thought so." Ginny took another spoon of the yogurt she'd barely eaten half of. "I'm afraid I can't take on much of the honour."

"You paid for it", said Draco, and Ginny pretended to curtsey. "Seriously, though. I don't deserve you buying food for me."

"Please quit that. Need I remind you to whom I am engaged?"

"You're using _his_ money?"

" _No._ I have my own money, idiot."

"You were a quidditch player, right?"

"I still play, just not as a professional. Do you?"

"Haven't sat on a broom since I was 15." He sounded genuinely sad when he said it.

"Oh." She nodded quietly. "I understand. Do you miss it?"

"I don't know. Sometimes?" He took a gulp of water from his neon yellow glass. Every piece of cutlery Luna owned were either neon or pastel, which would be obscure to most people, but felt natural to Ginny,

"I'm thinking about joining the team again. I just... I really don't know."

"Such difficult problems." The poisonous comment was automatic, and he strongly regretted it as Ginny gave him an icy look.

"No, but I still have every right to talk about them. But since you think they're so boring, we could switch to yours. Tell me, _why_ do you live like you do? On the streets, with an alcohol addiction and a desperate look in your eyes?" Draco had some serious trouble finding an answer to that.

"Just trying to run from my problems, I guess."

"That's a great method. Seems to be working out really well for you."

"No need for the irony, thank you very much!"

"I'm sorry." She smiled apologetically. "Poisonous snake just happens to be my identity when in lack of sleep. I'm terrible at it."

"Bad dreams?"

"I guess." Ginny shook her head, trying to delete her memories from the unpleasant dreams. "But seriously. I want to know. Why?"

"No, you don't want to know!" He stood up hastily, a furious look upon his face. "You have nothing to do with this. We've never been particularly friendly with each other. You said it yourself, I hated you, I bullied you, like I hated and bullied everyone else. Get away from me. Save yourself."

" _Stop that!_ " She surprised herself when raising her voice. It'd been a long time since, and she'd forgot exactly how good she was at it. Growing up with six older brothers had made her voice a useful skill. "Stop saying that! I'm an adult, responsible for my own actions and choices. I'm not going to save myself, because I don't need to be saved." She had to gasp for breath. "Maybe I'm doubting my choices in life. Maybe I need to surprise myself. Maybe I need to do something different."

"So I'm a little pet project in your perfect life? Fantastic." She could practically smell the sarcasm in his voice.

"Merlin's beard, Draco. Why do you believe that every single human being hates you so bad?"

"It's been my experience so far."

"Well, I don't hate you."

They sat in silence after that.

"You still haven't answered my question."

"Fine." He looked out the window, unwilling to meet her eyes. "Because I'm terrified of going home."

More silence.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"You don't have any other place to stay at? Some friend able to help you?" She was kind, optimistic, but it was all in vain. Draco didn't want her to care about him. It was a fate that she simply didn't deserve.

"I don't have friends anymore. Everyone..." She raised an eyebrow. "...well, everyone with a capacity of thinking logically hates me. I've spent my whole life being an asshole, and now I'm suffering the consequences."

"Everyone can't possibly hate you. You're wearing an engagement ring." Ginny nodded towards the thin gold ring on his left hand.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you under which circumstances I got it."

"Try me."

He didn't understand how, nor did he understand why, or understand anything, but something he couldn't explain made him look into her eyes and tell her the whole story.

He didn't have the energy to fight it any longer.

She was silent through the whole story, serious and focused. She didn't mock him for stuttering, didn't say a word when tears fell down his cheek. She was silent, and she listened patiently while Draco told her more than he had told anyone in years.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He didn't cry. Not a single tear was shed during the time they sat at the dilapidated kitchen table, painted the same shade of blue as the sky on a wonderful summer day.

Ginny didn't cry either. She wanted to at some points, but had the ability to stop herself.

Her two-way mirror was vibrating. She knew it was Harry. She ignored it. Draco was the one and only centre of her attention, and he needed it the most.

"Do you want me to say something?" She asked the question after making sure he'd finished his story.

"No. I don't need your pity." He swallowed, looking a little regretful over his sharp tone. "Sorry. I'm just not really ready to talk about it. I've never told anyone before."

"Can we make a deal?"

"What?"

"If I get to help you out of your situation, we never have to talk about it again."

He made the thinking expression she recognized from their train ride months ago, only it looked a lot more serious now.

"Deal."

"Do you want to take a walk? I think we can hide pretty well in the centre of London."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

They ended up on a bench in Hyde Park. The sun shone upon them, bringing significantly less heat than the July sun, but still very pleasant and satisfying. The leaves were in the beginning of their colour-changing process, but were not yet in piles on the ground. Every now and then a breeze would blow past them, and Draco would shiver, but it was gone as quickly as it came.

"So", he said, wrapping his hands around the paper cup of cappuccino Ginny had paid for. "I've told you about my life. Your turn. Tell me everything about your perfect life."

"Perfect?" She laughed, thinking about the countless nights she'd had dinner alone this year, all the times she'd fallen asleep on the couch before Harry came home. "No one has a perfect life."

"Tell me anyway."

"I want to call off my engagement", she said without thinking.

"Wow. Okay." The shock in his voice was clear, but the one in her head felt stronger. Did she really just say that out loud?

"Harry is training to be an auror. That's fantastic, it's his dream, I want him to follow it. It's just... auror training is so damn tough. He comes home at midnight, if he comes home at all. We barely have time to talk anymore, he's exhausted all the time and I feel like he's a stranger. It's killing me."

"So why are you two still together?"

"He's the man of my dreams." A tear made its way down her cheek. "He's always been. We share the same friends. My family is his family. I've fangirled over him since I was eleven, and I've loved him since I was fifteen. It's meant to be."

"Is that what you feel, or what you tell yourself?"

"Honestly? I have no idea."

They watched the squirrels and the great chaos of tourists for a moment.

"So I guess both our lives kind of sucks", said Draco.

"It doesn't suck. It's just…"

"It's okay, Ginny. I think I get it." It was the first time she'd ever heard him say her name, and she tried to hide her surprise.

"I'll help you. I promise I will help you. Even if you don't think you deserve it."

"You're not giving me much of a choice, are you?" He sipped his coffee and gave her a weak smile. "I think we may need to help each other."

"Yeah. Maybe." She wiped her tears as she stood up. She grabbed the spare key to Lunas apartment from her coat pocket and gave it to Draco. "There's a couple ready-made meals in the fridge. I'm coming back tomorrow." She started walking, but turned around after just a few steps. "Take care of yourself."

"I'll try", he answered, but she was already gone by then.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Ginny! Where the hell have you been?" Harry stood so close to the door she almost hit him in the face. "I've tried to call you a hundred times, but you turned your mirror off."

"Yes, I did. And I'm fine. Can I come inside?" He stepped back, allowing her to enter the apartment.

"But where were you? I was worried sick!"

"I was with a friend. From work. Nobody you know." She held up her arms, trying to signalize that he needed to calm down.

"And why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you pick up? Why did you turn off your mirror?"

"Can you please let me live my own life?" Ginny kept her voice calm, knowing she had nothing to gain by losing her temper. She went into the kitchen to boil water for a cup of tea, Harry following her like a lovesick puppy.

"I just want to know where you were. I hate having to worry about you."

"Please, Harry, there's no need. I'm capable of taking care of myself. It's what I do day after day, you know. Stop being such a control-freak." She knew she was provoking him. She didn't care.

"I'm not a control-freak. This conversation is useless. Are you going to tell me where you were?"

"You sound an awful lot like one." She took her cup of lemon tea and sat down on the chair next to him. "I need to explain... a thing."

"I have a feeling I'm not going to like this thing." He ran his hand through his jet-black hair, a habit he often did to calm herself. She realised how she knew every detail about him, and how she was supposed to love that fact, but didn't.

"You're probably right." Ginny took a deep breath, filling her lungs not only with air, but with courage to say the words she knew she needed to say. "I'm not sure I love you anymore."

A/N:

It actually looks like I have a few readers? Thank you very much - I hope y'all like it! English is not my first language, so this is a bit of an experiment, but I'm trying my best! I really like this story, and I hope you do as well.


	7. Chapter 6-To Love or Not To Love

**Chapter 6; To Love or Not to Love**

Draco Malfoy knew that he'd made a terrible choice. It was completely irrational, almost self-destructive, of him.

He had the perfect chance to get away. He carried the keys in his pocket, and still didn't return to Luna Lovegood's apartment. He had an exceptional possibility to avoid Astoria for just a little longer, and still didn't use it. He'd never been the sharpest knife in the drawer, and his own stupidity when it came to taking choices in life – well, it never ceased to surprise him.

But she loved him. She was the only one who'd ever told him those magical words. And he loved her. Astoria was stunningly beautiful. Her body had the shape of a super model, tall and slim. She had flawless skin without scars or imperfections, golden hair with perfect curls. The boys wanted to kiss her and the girls wanted to be her, and it had always been that way. Draco remembered very clearly how the other boys in his dorm had talked about her, how they all had dreamed about being her boyfriend, how none of them got that lucky.

Except Draco. He had never been more proud than the day they bumped into each other at the Leaky Cauldron, and ended up making out in a toilet booth. They were a couple since that day, and he once again had something others didn't, something worth bragging about. Not as interesting as the Dark Mark, perhaps, but much more enjoyable.

Or so he'd thought.

He still remembered the first time. It had been a Friday night. They were both tired after work, the Thai food they'd ordered was ingested and the daily small talk about work done. They'd played a game of Exploding Snap, but none of them felt the need to play another. Astoria had started telling him about some incident at her work, but he'd been too tired to really listen. Which she noticed.

It had started out with just ugly words, and Draco had tried to protest. The protests were a terrible mistake. She'd hit him repeatedly, over and over again, and he didn't know what to do. He was quite strong, but she was fast and tactical. He had his first experience with the wardrobe that night.

Draco had never told anyone about it before he'd told Ginny. The shame wasn't as bad as the guilt, and the feeling that maybe it was he who did it all wrong. Astoria said it was his fault, and he believed her. No one could know the truth about his relationship, because no one would believe him. She still said the three words he depended so much on every now and then. He felt obligated to stay.

"There you are". She opened the door before he'd even knocked. "I missed you yesterday." She leaned forward for a kiss. "Come inside, you little piece of shit."

The first blow went to his ribcage, and he took a deep breath to brace himself for the inevitable.

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"Hey. Ginny." A familiar face with blue eyes and a small colony of freckles had appeared in her two-way mirror.

"Hello, George. How are you doing? Business going well?" She sat at the kitchen table once again, mindlessly scraping at a dent her cup of coffee had made.

"I'm fine, business is going great, but I'm not calling for small talk. _What_ just happened? Why did Harry send an owl telling us he's not coming to Sunday Roast? He's never missed a single one!" George sounded almost hysterical by confusion. "Something serious have happened, and I know it."

"George, it's complicated."

"Are you pregnant?"

" _What?_ " She accidentally tipped her coffee cup over with chock. "Oh, god, no. I'm not pregnant."

"Do you have a terminal illness? Are you dying? Is Harry dying?" He was talking at an incredible speed, almost spitting out the words.

"None of us are sick or dying, okay? Stay calm."

"Then _what has happened_?"

 _She had to say it out loud._

She wanted to be a child again. She wanted to run straight out the house and into the forest, run until her lungs hurt and she couldn't breathe, collapse against a tree and cry. She wanted to scream, scream as high as she could when the trees were her only audience. She wanted to wait in the woods until someone came to get her, telling her that they missed her, that she needed to come back. She wanted someone to reassure her that everything would be fine. She wanted to believe that someone.

But she lived in central London and had to take the tube to the nearest forest. She was too old to scream and cry when life took an unwanted turn. And she'd gotten herself into this mess.

"Ginny? Are you still there?" George's voice made her snap back into reality.

"We broke up." She tried to keep her voice steady, but failed. "I don't know where he is. He didn't tell me where he was going."

"Merlin's beard." The hysteria in her older brother's voice had been transformed to pure shock, and he seemed to struggle with the words. "I… I never thought. Who did the breaking up? Shall I set out to kill someone?"

"No, George, don't. It was me." She hadn't fully realised it before she said it out loud, and the consequence was inevitable. Ginny Weasley was a woman who very seldom cried, but now she was incapable of stopping it. She didn't even hear George telling her he was coming over immediately.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Draco felt awfully uncertain if the choice he was making was a good one, or just another number in his long list of mistakes.

But he unlocked the door to Luna's apartment that night, using the keys Ginny had given him. He used the microwave spell for a ready-made meal of pasta with meatballs in tomato sauce, which was surprisingly tasty. He brushed his teeth with a brand-new toothbrush he found in the bathroom cabinet. Then he went to bed, with an aching pain is in his ribcage, but unafraid of the night. He recognized a feeling he hadn't felt for a long, long time. Safety.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Breaking off an engagement wasn't too difficult. No papers to sign, nothing more than an agreement and taking off the rings. Harry forced her to keep his as well.

"They were expensive. You can get quite a lot of money if you sell them. And I have more money than you anyways", had been his argument. It was true, but still felt like an insult. Not that Harry lacked the right of insulting her.

The consequences of breaking off an engagement were however worse. Harry would always be a celebrity in the Wizarding World – they'd accepted that. They had learned to live with it. Even the paparazzi's got tired eventually. But every time a bigger happening occurred, Ginny found the thought of emigrating very tempting.

And apparently, The Boy Who Lived ad his Quidditch Player Girlfriend breaking up counted as a bigger happening. Ginny had already hexed three of her co-workers in the news section of The Daily Prophet, but she and Harry were on the first page still. Wherever she went, people whispered behind her back. Ron was furious with her, children and old people stared at her.

She detested being famous.

Breaking up with Harry wasn't something spontaneous. She knew in her heart it was the right choice.

But every glare she felt, every whisper she overheard, every journalist who called her, made her regret it just a little more.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

Draco was positioned in Lunas sofa when Ginny opened the door. He was reading a book, looking ever so focused on the story. It was kind of adorable, his grey eyes almost staring at the pages, his whole expression signalizing interest and care. He handled the pages carefully, like he respected them. How come she never had seen this side of him during their Hogwarts years?

 _He never showed it then,_ a sour voice in her head reminded her. ¨

"Hi." He reluctantly lifted his eyes from the book when hearing her voice, but smiled as he met her eyes.

"Hi. I saw you in the newspaper."

"Please don't remind me. I would like not to feel famous for a moment." She sat down next to him, sighing deeply.

"Fine by me."

"You do realise we can't go on like this forever, right? It's only been a week so far, but Luna will be moving back in a month."

"A month is practically an eternity. And you don't owe me this. I know you always protest when I say I don't deserve this, but I don't. Not really." It really was amazing how much more talkative he'd become in only a week. She almost felt proud. It was a strange feeling.

"I still don't know why I offered you this apartment."

"I still don't know why I accepted it."

"We're even, then." She laughed, for the first time in a week. "I guess we can just confirm that what we're doing is really weird."

"Yeah." He laughed, too. "I guess we can."

They cooked dinner together that night, and ate it while discussing everything from political matters to kittens. Both needed to get their mind off all the problems for a moment.

Ginny had seen the bottles Draco hid in the most peculiar places, but knew too little about alcohol abstinence to force him to stop. She lacked the energy to deal with it.

Draco had read all the weeks' newspaper articles about Ginny. He now knew every fact about her former relationship with Harry the articles told him, true or false. He felt like an intruder in her life, not thankful enough for the safety she offered him. He still visited Astoria every other night, and returned to the apartment beaten up and anxious. He did not know how to deal with it.

But none of them wanted to think about it, so the discussion about kittens continued.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

After only a week, Draco had forgotten all about insomnia. So when he found it hard to fall asleep that night, it almost took him by surprise.

His thoughts were too loud again, ear-piercing, deafening, cacophonous. They'd been more or less silent throughout the week – he didn't live in constant fear nor on the streets, but could still ingest the amounts of alcohol his body craved. He hid the bottles underneath the bed, in trashcans and behind furniture, hoping Ginny wouldn't notice.

He was relatively safe. And he hadn't had to give up anything. It would've been a dream.

But the monsters in his head still haunted him, taunting him about things he had no desire to think about. Like Ginny. Like Astoria. Like Ginny and Astoria, and the difference between them.

He'd fallen in love with Ginny the moment he saw her on that train. He just never thought he'd see her again. And when he did see her again, he'd been so sure she hated him. And then she'd saved his life. And now they ate dinner together.

She was so beautiful. Imperfect, not your ideal beauty queen. More than that. Her hair was the colour of sunsets, crimson and ginger shades whirled together. Her eyes captured him like nothing else, her intelligence and kindness astonished him. Her beauty grew on him every time he looked at her, and her personality grew on him for every word she said. She was magical, made his blood vibrate and his skin tingle.

And she was way too good for him. He didn't deserve her, had never deserved her.

But Astoria was his destiny. She was the key to him somewhat keeping his social status. She was respected by his father, respected by his friends. She made Draco look better – people are always more likely to respect you if they respect your company. He had to be loyal to her no matter what she did, because he was nothing without her.

He didn't want to feel, didn't want to exist, and didn't want to have to think about any of this. It was too much to handle and too much to take. Too hard to figure out and impossible to answer. Draco Malfoy had never had problems with love before, because it had been something almost distant to him. Loving people were never worth it. People tend to let you down, and if they don't, you let them down.

But this. This was something else. Something he couldn't manage. Because he did not deserve to love, did not deserve to be loved, and yet he dreamed about it so intensely.

He felt the familiar feelings of panic closing in on him. His heartbeat was speeding up, he felt sweaty, sick, out of breath. Would he throw up? Would he faint? No, he was still conscious, still physically fine, but it didn't feel that way. Merlin. Why did this always come to destroy him? What kind of monsters attacked like this? He felt so pathetic, not knowing how to fight them. Why could no one explain them to him?

He needed something to stop it. Something sharp.

It was disgusting and it hurt, but it defeated the monsters and deafened the thoughts. For a while.

A/N: New chapter WOOP WOOP! Hope you think it's okay! I don't know if I'll manage to post a new chapter every week, since I have school and hobbies and stuff like that. But I'm always writing, I promise. 3


	8. Chapter 7-Helping

**Chapter 7; Helping**

Ginny Weasley's morning had been normal.

Well, the definition of normal she'd created this last week. But still normal.

Harry slamming the door to their apartment, leaving in a rage, had been her alarm clock. They both avoided the apartment as best as they could, only spending time together for the necessary discussions about practical things. Harry mostly seemed disappointed in her whenever she talked to him, but every now and then came outbursts of anger. It was an anger she deserved.

She'd gotten up of the bed, already used to sleeping there alone. She ate a quiet breakfast, made herself ready and left for Draco's – Luna's – apartment. A routine had been established in which she went there every morning before work, and every night after, unless she had a quidditch match to report. But she was always there at least once a day. It's fascinating how quick you get used to things, she thought as she entered the building.

And just as fascinating how soon you feel when something's different. She always waited outside the door for a bit, listening for clues to what Draco was doing. She usually heard either the shower or the kettle, sometimes both. It was becoming a scarily precise routine, but she hadn't realised it until now.

Because this morning, she didn't hear a sound. And from the moment she'd opened the door with magic, since she symbolically had given her spare key away, the morning had quit being a normal one on the spot.

Ginny normally didn't spend her mornings in . She preferred it that way. But here she was, positioned in a waiting room at some department she'd never been to before. Still dry-heaving after the sight she'd met this morning.

"Miss Weasley?" A young-looking healer with the green costumes that always made Ginny feel sick called out her name.

"Yes?"

"Your friend is ready to see you now." She stood up immediately, but the healer held up her hand to stop her. "He's been sleeping, so take it easy. We fixed the wounds without problem, but he will need medication to avoid infection. Dirty razor blades can be nasty." She made an apologizing smile. "Also… You need to talk to him."

"About what?"

"He needs help. Have you ever heard about self-harm?"

"No. I don't think so." Ginny blushed. She knew she'd heard the word before, seen it in muggle newspapers, but that was it. "Is it… some sort of illness?"

"Yes. And no. It's a bit tricky to explain, and I think he will have to do it for you. But you can read this." The healer gave her a pink pamphlet and then pointed towards a door in the end of the corridor. "He's in room 21, over there."

Draco looked even more fatigued now than when she'd first found him that night in Diagon Alley. He was disturbingly pale and both his wrists were bandaged, but he still managed to crack a smile when she entered.

"You made a mistake befriending me, you know."

"Why are you hurting yourself like this? Why are you doing it?" She ignored his comment, desperate to ask the questions she couldn't stop thinking about.

"You wouldn't understand." His face turned serious. "No one ever does."

"Fantastic", she snorted. "I'm not a moron! I've been through tough things, too. Remember that time when I was eleven and got possessed by Lord Voldemort, thanks to a diary your father gave me? That war we both fought in, in which I lost a brother? All the people close to me I've lost? Hate to break it to you, but you're not the only one in this world who have felt pain." She put her arms across her chest. "Try me."

"I'm sorry." He winced, suddenly looking uncomfortable. "It's just that I've never come across someone who understood this before. I've kind of given up."

"You hurt yourself. You cut yourself. And you drink a clearly unhealthy amount of alcohol, which I guess also is a way of hurting yourself. I have a hard time thinking you do this for fun."

"I need to kill them."

The room became quiet.

"Need to kill who?"

"The creatures." Draco blushed. "It sounds really dumb, and I've never found anything about it in a book… but there are dangerous creatures in my head. It must be, it's the only possible explanation. And I need to please them."

xxxxxxxxxxxx

Draco would be staying at St Mungos over the night for observation, so Ginny left him when another healer came into the room to shoo her away, telling her she could come back at the ordinary visiting hours. She didn't feel too confident about going to The Daily Prophet's office like this, shaken and exhausted, so she took the tube to Hyde Park instead.

It took some time before she realised she'd chosen the exact same bench she'd shared with Draco a week ago. Not until she'd been sitting there for a good ten minutes, sipping tea from a paper cup and reading notes from a quidditch match yesterday, did she become conscious about the fact that her view over the Italian Gardens felt very familiar. She had no idea about why she'd chosen this bench once again, and refused to think about it.

Runners rushed past her and parents with babies in strollers smiled at her as they walked by. Ginny tried her best to smile back, but felt doubting about her success. Her head was full of worries to the bursting point, and the couples who walked past her, holding hands and kissing, didn't do much to take her mind off of it.

Why was nothing in her life just simple?

She started digging in her bag to find her two-way mirror, but got hold of the pink pamphlet the healer had given her instead. She never read it at the hospital, never even glanced at it. As she did so now, she found that it was called _"Depression, Self-Harm and Eating Disorders – What happens when mood enchantments doesn't work?"_

She begun to read it.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

"You're totally welcome to stay with us until you find a new place", said Ron as he and Harry exited the classroom. They were re-living their Hogwarts years now, only with much more advanced classes. "I mean, if Hermione agrees to it. It'll be great – just like old times!"

"Ron, this is really not something to get excited about. I'm moving out because Ginny and I broke up, remember?" Harry dragged his hand through his jet-black hair, a motion he always did when thinking about something serious. "It'll be fine. Just, please stop acting like it'll be paradise."

"Well, she's the one who broke up with you, so you're the one who deserves better."

"Speaking from experience with Lavender, I understand?"

"Oh, shut up." They kept on walking towards the elevator in silence. "I'm just telling you, you haven't done anything wrong. I don't even know why she's doing this, to be honest."

"I've already told you, and you could always ask her yourself. You're siblings, after all." Harry found this conversation really annoying, but Ron obviously needed to get this off his chest.

"I just don't think it's fair to you. I mean, you said she never mentioned it before. And you guys were so happy together. You made her happy, which is the only thing I ever wanted for my sister, and if she doesn't want you – then something must be seriously wrong with her." A quiet _ding_ announced that the elevator had arrived to their floor. They both stepped inside, Ron still talking and Harry not really listening.

"Someone really must talk some sense into her, this is completely illogical…"

"Ron." He nudged his best friend with his elbow. "…Stop."

They weren't alone in the elevator, like Ron must've thought. They were accompanied by the victim of Ron's insults herself, and she gave the both of them a stale but judging look.

"Talk all the sense into me you want. I still make my own choices in life", she said as she exited the elevator at the floor where Hermione worked.

The both of them were left paralyzed by surprise, one furious and one morose.

"I always loved her confidence so much", whispered Harry.

"Ugh. You're like a lovesick puppy. Come on – I need to buy coffee." They had arrived at the Ministry's cafeteria, and Ron dragged his friend out of the elevator.

xxxxxxxxxx

"Your fiancé insulted me in the elevator today", Ginny told Hermione when they'd gotten out of the Ministry building.

"Really?" She lifted one of her bushy eyebrows. "What did he say?"

"Something about how someone has to talk sense into me and that I make idiotic choices in life. He's taking Harry's side all the way."

"I've noticed." She sighed. "He'll come around, Ginny. He always does eventually. Give him some time."

"I know he will. It's just… I didn't do this to upset anyone. Still everyone seems to think I did. It's hurtful." The two of them had apparated to Brighton Pier - Hermione insisted on needing to see the sea after a hectic workday. They were walking along the shore now, talking in quiet voices while watching the waves.

"I don't, if it helps."

"Perhaps." Ginny tried to smile again, but after the day's incidents it felt unattainable. St Mungo's, all the information the pamphlet had given her, the meeting in the elevator. She wished for her life to get easier, and it went on doing the opposite. No wonder her cheek muscles refused to cooperate.

"You seem low today. Is something else bothering you?" Sweet, compassionate, Hermione. The two friends discussed almost anything, but Ginny had yet to tell anyone about Draco and had not nearly enough energy to take the reaction.

"Life, I guess. Breaking up with the Wizarding World's most famous man. All that comes with it. All the hate… My brother being sororicidal." She frowned. "Gets tiring after a while."

"Well, you don't deserve any of the hate." Hermione picked up a flat stone from the beach, throwing it in the sea with all of her strength. Ginny did the same. "You two… had it coming. You were a little too predictable."

"Says the girl who married her best friend."

"Shut up!" They started laughing simultaneously.

"I do have another problem, though." She threw another stone, as hard and as far as she could. "That I haven't told anyone about. And I'm thinking I need to."

"Are you pregnant?"

" _Why do people always think I'm pregnant?"_ She blushed as she noticed people looking at her funny. A young woman with a friend on Brighton Pier, screaming about her not being pregnant – something to discuss at the dinner table. "I'm not. It would be easier than this."

"Not necessarily. You being pregnant would cause a great scandal, both with Harry or with someone else."

"Let it go, Hermione. You're making me forget what I wanted to say originally." A deep breath was needed to brace herself for this. "Draco Malfoy is currently living in Lunas apartment, thanks to me."

"You… _What?_ "

"He needs help."

An hour later, they had found seats in a crowded café, sharing a brownie. Ginny had calmly explained the Draco problem to her friend, and Hermione had listened with patience, her face expression changing from uncertainty to sorrow to disgust to the hint of a smile.

"He needs help indeed. Mental illnesses are some serious stuff."

"The healer at St. Mungo's gave me a pamphlet with information. From what it said, I agree." She ate another spoon of the brownie, which was scrumptious. She realised she'd forgot to eat lunch. "I just can't make sense of why I've never, ever really heard about it."

"It's stigmatized. Very stigmatized. People are often terribly judgemental about it."

"So I've understood, since no one talks about it."

"He's married to Astoria Malfoy, who works at the same department as me." Hermione looked focused and frustrated at the same time, like she was trying really hard to remember something. "I know it's something about her and Draco, I've thought about it before…"

"He's not very keen to go home, so their relationship can't be all fine and dandy. Something's really wrong there, but he's not telling me about it."

"No. He wouldn't." She was working through a tangle in her hair with her fingers. "I think, if I remember this right… that Astoria was accused of abusing her husband for a while. Mostly rumours. But the more I think about it, the more likely it seems. She…" Hermione bit her lip. "She feels like the kind of person who would do that. Oh god, Ginny – you really must help him."

"I am helping him!"

"I'll help you help him. I _know_ something's wrong with his and Astoria's relationship."

xxxxxxx

Draco Malfoy woke up in the middle of the night, with a peculiar feeling that someone was staring at him.

A feeling that, as it happened, was true.

"Hello, honey." Astoria sat on the visitor's chair beside his bed, looking innocent and almost caring. She smiled a sweet smile, almost believable. "I heard you weren't feeling very well."

"Astoria…" He tried to sit up, but the dizziness hit him directly and he sunk back into the mattress.

"You don't have to explain yourself, honey. I understand. I've always known."

"Known what?"

"That you're a freak." Her smile got wider, reminded him of the way He-Who-Must… Lord Voldemort, used to smile at Death Eater meetings in his family home. "You're a freak, Draco. You have always been, and will always be a freak." She laughed as she rose from the chair. "Oh, by the way. I know you're seeing miss Ginny Weasley-not-Potter-anymore. You can't imagine the things I will do to her." She walked out of the room.

Draco tried to sit up, tried to protest – but his sleeping spells kicked in again and he fell asleep, not even remembering the last words Astoria had spoken.


	9. Chapter 8-Cry

**Chapter 8; Cry**

 **-~flashback~-**

No one had ever walked past Malfoy Manor without thinking, "Here lives rich and wealthy people." It was almost as if the manor had been built for that sole purpose. To wake jealousy. Wake respect.

Draco Malfoy spent his childhood getting lost. He got lost in the endless corridors, never knowing which one of the twenty-eight abandoned rooms he walked into. He got lost in the two square kilometer big garden, an endless maze of trees and flower gardens. The old gardener, William, taught him the names of every flower that grew there, and he forgot the names as soon as he'd learned them. There were only three places he always knew how to find – his swing, his room and the kitchen. If their cooker was in a good mood that day, willing to sneak him an ice cream or let him taste the cake batter, three places were also good enough for the young boy.

Because every moment he spent in a room with his father was a moment filled with fear and tension.

An architect would've looked at the blinding white and stunningly impressive manor, and said that this was a piece of art.

Draco Malfoy looked upon the house and thought that this was the scariest place in the world.

It was night. He knew that much. He should be sleeping. He knew that too.

But Draco could hear his mother and father downstairs, the lather of them screaming at his mother, the ugly words the boy learned more of every other night. He could hear his mother crying.

And it's so hard to fall asleep to the sound of your mother's panicked cries.

It's so hard.

Many miles from Malfoy Manor, in a village called Ottery St. Catchpole, slept a four year old girl with flaming red hair in her bed. The bed was significantly smaller than Draco's, but fit Ginny well enough. It felt safe, sleeping in a narrow bed with odd blankets and pillows everywhere. She had spent the day playing with her brothers, playing pranks on Percy and Ron, the most sensitive targets. She had not felt alone for a second throughout the day. She knew every inch of her house and found her way through the garden without trouble. She had never heard her father scream at her mother, knew they loved each other dearly, and knew she was loved by them both. She rarely had nightmares, but if she did, she went over to one of her brothers and shared a bed with them.

Ginny Weasley had never fallen asleep to the sound of her mother's panicked cries.

 **-~end of flashback~-**

The signal from her two-way mirror felt like someone next to her using a Sonorus charm. It woke Ginny Weasley up from her sleep, and it caused her to tip her glass of water over in her sleep-walking search for it. A loud bang and a crash when the glass splintered was heard.

"Hello?" She barely recognized her own voice.

"Ginny!" Hermione was at the other end, sounding strongly affected by either caffeine or some energy-boosting spell. "I remembered something. Something important."

"What time is it? I was asleep…"

"It's two in the morning, I think. I needed to call you about this, I can't believe I didn't remember it…"

"What is it?" It felt like a force was pressing down her eyelids, and she used every last bit of willpower to keep them open, not letting herself go back to sleep before hearing Hermione out.

"About Draco and Astoria. They've been married, for three years."

"I know. You said it before. They share the same last name, it's not that hard…"

"Do you realize what this means, Ginny?"

"It's two in the morning and I was sleeping…"

"They have to get a divorce. Which is pretty unusual in the Wizarding World, and if our theory about their relationship is true… "She paused for a moment. "I have a distinct feeling it will be a bit problematic to, ehm, have both parts sign that paper."

"Shit."

"We need to visit Astoria and talk to her. Soon." The call ended. Ginny would've reflected over what Hermione had reminded her, but the exhaustion had won before she'd even let go of the two-way mirror.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Draco's first impression of the psychologist was that he looked remarkably normal. Short brown hair, blue eyes, neither short nor tall, neither skinny nor fat. Normal clothes. Everything about him radiated normal.

"Hello, Draco. My name is Bob. How are you?"

"I just got out of a hospital bed after harming myself so badly I became unconscious. What do you think?" He couldn't stop the sarcasm. Merlin's beard, he really needed to stop the sarcasm. But Bob only laughed.

"At least you're not lacking a sense of humour. That's great, Draco." Bob dragged his hand to his almost non-existent beard. "What do you want to talk about?"

"What do you want me to talk about, what am I here to talk about? I didn't come here by choice."

"You can always apparate out of the room, I can't force you to stay. But you're still here, so there must be something."

"I want answers." Draco made his voice as clear and demanding as he possibly could.

"Answers?"

"They said you knew how to kill the monsters."

"Ah. The monsters. I see."

"And please don't give me some big fat book to read that's supposed to give me all the answers. They never do, they just give me headaches."

"Fair enough." The psychologist twinned his fingers together, still smiling at him. Draco felt almost annoyed by his cheerfulness. "You think of this as monsters. May I ask you why?"

"They must be, it's the only possible explanation." He was repeating what he'd told Ginny the day before. "Creatures who attack your brain through some sort of advanced legilimency and send out evil thoughts that make you crazy. Am I getting warm?" He asked, but Bob only laughed.

"No. I will tell you about something called anxiety, and something called mental illnesses. But first, I must know a few things about you. I'm forbidden by law to discuss my clients outside this room, so I promise you that you can tell me everything. So… do you think you could tell me about your childhood?"

Draco only managed to talk for a few minutes before he started crying. He wasn't used to talk about this, wasn't used to talk about feelings at all.

But there was something about Bob, something about the aura in this room that made talking feel so right.

He didn't notice when his 45 minutes long appointment was over, and Bob didn't remind him.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

Ginny Weasley had just bought her first own apartment. It felt ridiculously overwhelming.

From now on she had her own 2-bed apartment. An apartment to which she owned the only set of keys. An apartment she could furnish and decorate for only her own taste and opinion. An apartment she would be the only one living in. She had never lived by herself before.

The apartment was fantastic, too good to be true, and she knew she was lucky to have found one so quickly. It would be great, once she moved all of her stuff here and got used to living alone, for real this time.

It would be great. So why couldn't she stop herself from crying?

She sat on the living room floor, nothing but empty space around her, and she rocked herself back and forth, crying.

She hadn't cried since her conversation with George that day, but now she was.

She felt lonely, lonelier than ever. Media still hunted her for interviews day and night, people at the streets and at work still looked at her funny. Harry hadn't spoken to her for a week, and to add up on all this, she had taken on the responsibility for saving a man she had no real reason to save. In two hours, she would meet up with Hermione on a mission to talk to a possible psychopath.

What had even happened to her life?

xxxxxxx

"Okay, Hermione, let me just get this straight. We're just going to knock on her… their… apartment door and confront her? With _what?_ "

"I talked to her at work and said I'd like to come over for afternoon tea someday. We're practically invited, Ginny!"

"So we're going to enter the apartment and say what? 'Hi Astoria, are you abusing your husband like the rumours say?'" Hermione stopped abruptly at Ginny's remark, looking embarrassed.

"I haven't thought about that."

"I believe that's the first time in my life I've heard you say those words."

"There's a first time for everything", Hermione muttered. "We'll improvise."

Draco and Astoria Malfoy lived in one of the fancier areas London had to offer. Their apartment was located at the sixth floor of a grand, marble white eight-storey building, with what must probably have been a breath-taking view over the Thames from their balcony. It all reminded her a little of what Harry had told her about the Malfoy Manor. Had Draco perhaps wanted it to look like home?

"I would've considered myself quite lucky if I lived here", said Hermione and bent down to take a closer look at the flowers, professionally composed in the flowerbed. "I guess the outside says very little about the inside. It's a good disguise."

"Are you sure Astoria's home?" Ginny shifted her weight from foot to foot, feeling both nervous and restless. She wanted nothing else but to get this over with, even if she had trouble comprehending what 'this' was.

"She said she'd be." Hermione stood straight again. "You don't need a code or a key to enter the lobby, Astoria said. Let's go."

The friends entered the lobby together, neither of them knowing about the chaos that was about to happen. Ginny took the stairs running, always applying her quidditch player habits onto the real world, and Hermione followed her in a softer pace.

"Hermione." Astoria opened the door in a rapid motion, and Ginny suddenly felt how little she had prepared herself to stare right into the light green eyes of Draco's wife. "And… Ginny Weasley."

"I brought a friend. I hope that's okay." Hermione smiled politely. "Can we come inside? I brought cookies." Astoria stepped back to let them enter the apartment, and Ginny reflected over how beautiful she was. Tall and slender, with gorgeous features and golden hair nearly reaching her navel. She felt self-conscious about her own appearance in Astoria's company, about her average length and her muscular rather than slim body, about the red hair that was in desperate need of a wash. Astoria glowed of confidence, and she felt herself shrink.

"Totally. Make yourself at home in the living room and I'll make some tea." She strutted off to the kitchen, and Ginny tried her best not to let her mind wander away to Draco, to the fact that this was Draco's apartment, as she sat down in the white leather sofa. Everything was white in this apartment, different shades of the clean and pedantic colour. Was it even possible to eat chocolate here? She felt naked and exposed in her red and blue clothes, like she wasn't meant to be here. She probably wasn't meant to be here. She could understand why Draco seemed so unwilling to go back to living here, almost even understand why he preferred the cold and dirty streets over this. She hated it.

"Tea." Astoria was back, now with a teapot and cups in the same flowered pattern. She put it all down at the sofa table, and sat down in an armchair across from her guests.

"My cookies", said Hermione quickly, and pulled a plastic container out of her handbag. "Home-made, yesterday night. I had to put a charm on the batter to stop Ron from eating it all, but it shouldn't have any effect on the cookies. I think", she added, seeing Astoria's and Ginny's doubtful looks.

"It's fine. I'm on a diet anyway", said Astoria and touched her perfectly flat stomach.

"I just ate", said Ginny quietly, and hoped her stomach wasn't going to admit the truth anytime soon. "But I'm sure they're great, Mione."

"Okay, I'll just eat them all myself, then." Hermione reached for a cookie and bit in it, hiding her grimace as she chewed. "So, Astoria, how's it going with your law about…what was it… hippogriff care?"

"Fine, just fine. And I know you've had great success with your laws about house elves."

"Stop it." Hermione blushed. "I mean, they're talking about bringing them into the law book, but it's not decided for sure yet."

"Have you written an article about these laws yet, Ginny?"

"Eh, it's not my subject. I write about quidditch", answered Ginny.

"Of course you do." Astoria leaned back, a pleased smile on her face. "Of course."

Ginny felt her heartbeat speed up as the tension rose. This woman was unpleasant, unnerving. She touched her wand in her pocket, making sure it was close at hand.

"I bet your laws will get accepted much faster than mine", said Hermione in a quick attempt to ease the tension.

"Oh, don't degrade yourself." The way too sweet, way too polite smile, appeared again. The tension in the room kept on rising, and Hermione nudged Ginny in the side, as if she was hinting something. Ginny ignored it, keeping her focus on Astoria's every move, every expression.

The conversation between Astoria and Hermione kept on going for a while, Ginny never really managing to get involved. She was thinking about Draco, thinking about how this was his home too, thinking about how this was his sofa and his bookshelf and his floors. Thinking about the matter in which she was here. Thinking about what she had to do, and the fact that she still didn't know how.

It appeared she didn't have to bring it up.

"Where is your husband?" asked Hermione, in a way that sounded casual but had probably been rehearsed. "Draco? I was looking forward to meeting him, I thought he would be here."

"He's not home." Just like that, the sweet and polite smile had disappeared. "Not right now." Astoria's tone was now colder, shorter.

"Will he be home anytime soon?"

"You can stop this." Astoria stood up, looking at Hermione. "I'm not buying it. I know you're not here because you think I'm nice to talk to." She looked at Ginny. "And I know what you're doing. I know what you _two_ are doing."

"And I know what _you're_ doing", said Ginny. "I'm no fool. I've read about abusive relationships. And I think I understand."

" _You. Don't. Understand. A. Thing_." She was whispering the words, in a way that reminded Ginny way too much about how Lord Voldemort had talked. It was the way evil people talked.

After that, everything accelerated and went too fast. Ginny wouldn't even remember it when trying to tell people about it later.

Astoria grabbed her wand. Hermione and Ginny both did the same. Neither of them remembered which spells were cast, or who cast them, not until the last one.

"Sectumsempra!" They hadn't heard this spell in years before Astoria used it.

It was the worst pain Ginny had ever experienced, before everything went black.


	10. Chapter 9-BoyfriendGirlfriend Issues

**Chapter 9; Boyfriend/Girlfriend Issues**

"What are they doing to her? What happened? Is she going to be okay? Please, give me some answers!"

The St. Mungo's nurse, or Ella, as her name tag said, turned around at the sound of a lightly hysterical voice. She was a patient woman – a quality earned after twenty years at this hospital, calming frantic and panic-stricken friends and relatives down. But she wasn't very keen on famous people. She detested them for having more money than her, when the greatest accomplishment they'd ever had was being born into a wealthy family. The man running after her was Britain's most famous wizard, but Ella saw him as the most annoying thing in existence since mosquitoes right now.

"I've told you the answers to your questions a thousand times already, Mr. Potter."

"I didn't quite catch them. Can you please repeat it?" The emerald green eyes enlarged, looking like a puppy's. It didn't suit him.

"And will you leave me alone if I do so, Potter?"

"I just want to know what's going on. What are they doing to my fiancée?"

" _Ex_ -fiancée, Potter. I read the news." Ella crossed her arms and wished she'd been taller – Harry towered over her, which made looking down on him much more complicated. "Ginny will be okay. Your friend was quick to bring her here, which probably saved her life. We have our best healers working on her. She'll be okay."

"When can I see her?"

"When the healers are done."

"And when is that?"

"We'll tell you. Please wait here. And stop screaming, for Merlin's sake. _Potter_." She said the last word like it was some ugly disease, and walked away as fast as possible.

Harry collapsed on a very green and very uncomfortable plastic chair, and tried to keep himself from crying.

Why, oh why, did he have to be such an idiot? Why could he never keep his priorities straight or say the right things? Why could he never listen when he needed to listen, talk when he needed to talk? Did he have to be such an immature, insensitive, piece of crap? All this had led to him losing Ginny. It had led him to losing the woman he loved most in the whole world, the woman who made his heart beat faster every time he saw her. He had lost the only one who saw him for everything he was, all the little details about him, the only one who loved them all… _Had_ loved them all. He had lost the scent of all the flowers in the world, blended together in a mesmerizing symphony.

And it was his fault. He was the one who had lost himself in auror-training, sleeping at the Ministry just to get the chance to train more. He had wanted to excel, had wanted to show that this position was something he'd earned. Harry didn't want to be seen as the guy who killed Lord Voldemort because it was fate. He wanted to be good for real. So he had trained, had put all his energy into it, and almost forgotten about life outside. There had been days where he hadn't said a word to Ginny. He would forever despise himself for that, but it still wasn't enough.

She did the right thing, breaking up with him. She was too good for him. She was too good for everyone.

And now she'd done something risky without him being there. She'd done something so risky it had almost killed her. And Harry hadn't been there to save her.

He was so tired of crying at this point. Was there really no spell to ease the pain of a broken heart?

xxxxx

Draco Malfoy had been crying, too. The panic attack had come from nowhere this time. His day had been going just fine, he'd both slept and eaten well, he hadn't drunk _too_ much alcohol or made himself throw up. He hadn't seen Astoria. In fact, none of the things that would normally trigger his anxiety had occurred.

Bob had told him panic attacks worked like that. They came whenever you weren't expecting them, an unwelcome and unpleasant guest. But Draco had always been able to link them to something.

Not this time, tough. He had been reading when it started, feeling relatively relaxed and content. And then he felt his heartbeat speed up, felt his breathing quicken, and known immediately what was going on.

His breathing had been in control for an hour now, but he still didn't dare to move from his fetus position on the tiled bathroom floor. He had a mysterious feeling about something being seriously wrong, but lacked the ability to tell what it was. Plus, he was probably imagining it. An insensitive little useless brat like him had no sixth sense. Yet this feeling was so sharp, so conspicuous. Something was wrong, but it had nothing to do with him. Something was just wrong and he had no idea about what it could be.

Out of nowhere, a transparent silver otter stood in front him. It glowed of the golden light that told him the patronus wanted to deliver a message. It confused him.

What could anyone possibly want Draco Malfoy?

xxxxx

"I need to visit Ginny Weasley", Draco told the receptionist at St. Mungos. "Can you tell me where she is?"

"Good luck", said the receptionist, a man in his late fifties with a terrible haircut. "She's unconscious and is already accompanied by three people, which is two more than allowed. " He sighed at Draco's impatient look. "Fourth floor, spell damage. But be prepared…" Draco didn't hear him finish the sentence, since he was already halfway up the stairs.

He stopped abruptly when he reached the fourth floor. His thoughts had been everything but clear while apparating here, and he had not given a single thought to the fact that Ginny Weasley was famous.

There were journalists everywhere. They were eyeing him curiously, their evil little brains working on headlines and scandalous, best-selling articles. He could see the healers were upset – they seemed to be muttering both insults and threats to the unwelcome guests while making their way through the corridor – but they were apparently temporarily unable to chase the journalists away.

Draco was just making plans for how he would sneak into the toilet and disguise himself as someone else before walking through that crowd, when he saw a highly familiar person get out of the well-guarded patient room. Harry Potter looked like he was in dire need of both sleep and privacy, and from what Draco could hear behind the shaded glass doors, he said some pretty ugly words to the journalists and even made an inappropriate hand gesture – which, of course, was photographed. Then he started walking towards Draco. Shit.

He wanted to escape, but was petrified of fear. What would he do? What would he say?

"Draco", said Harry when opening the glass door. He looked confused, which made his deplorable face look even dumber. "What are you doing here?"

"Ehrm", answered Draco. "Just… just visiting my uncle. I just realised I'm at the wrong floor. Sorry." He ran down the stairs before Harry had time to question him.

xxxxx

The healers at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries had truly earned their reputation about being the best in the country, Ginny thought when she left the hospital a week later. She was fully recovered apart from memory loss – she did not remember anything from the visit except just how painful the curse had been – and some dizziness and nausea when moving too fast. With recommendation of another week's bed rest, and company to make sure someone could get her to hospital if she got worse, she was sent home.

The company part was easy. She was part of the Weasley family, after all. After some discussion it was decided that she was to temporarily move back into The Burrow again, spending a week being doted on by her mother. She had nothing to object. Except from the fact that she really, really wanted to send an owl to Draco. And the constant super-vision she was under made that… difficult.

It was the third day of Ginny's week with bed rest and company. She was positioned in her favourite sofa, the one with the run-down green leather in The Burrow's living room. The pillows and blankets surrounding her were too many to count, her tea was hexed to hold perfect drinking temperature as long as she wanted, and she was trying to reread one of her favourite books. It should've been perfect, but was far from being so.

First of all, she hated green tea, which Molly Weasley tended to forget every once in a while. Second, the words on the page in front of her kept blurring together, the letters switching places and dancing around. Third, the blankets made her too hot. Four, George was snoring with such a volume it would've awoken a hibernating bear and wasn't making a very amusing company. She wanted to stand up, walk away and get something, anything, done – but she was forbidden to and the restlessness killed her.

Ginny Weasley was planning to kill Astoria Malfoy. Not only for the things she did to Draco, put for this spell and the damage it had caused Ginny. Even if she managed to stand up for a second, the world would immediately start to spin and cause her to collapse on the floor. The fit quidditch player who beat her older brothers in arm-wrestling felt weak, and it was a feeling she despised. Yeah, she would definitely kill Astoria for this. As soon as she was able to stand up by herself.

"How are you, Ginny?" Angelina was coming downstairs, probably after a nap in George's old bedroom.

"No dramatic changes. Tired, dizzy, and restless at the same time." She made a half-smile. "And how are you?" She gestured towards Angelina's bowling ball-sized baby bump.

"Want to know the details, huh?" The mother-to-be sat down in a mismatched armchair next to her sister-in-law.

"Rather not. I already get nauseous if I think too much. Details about twin pregnancy might actually make me throw up."

"Trust me, they would." She made a deep sigh and leaned further back into the arm-chair. "My back pain is killing me and I just want to sleep through the day. And the smell of your green tea is awful." She crinkled her nose and made a quick movement with her wand. "There. I know you hate it anyways. Want to talk about something to keep me awake? If I don't stay awake now, I won't sleep tonight either."

"I have boyfriend issues", said Ginny.

"Tell me about it. Harry is still crazy in love with you and you broke up with him because apparently, you weren't. And he's the wizarding world's most famous man. Plus, he's rich. Now that's issues."

"Thank you for your supportive pep talk."

"Anytime."

"I know I did the right thing", said Ginny and realised she was probably high on painkillers. Spilling secrets normally didn't come this easy to her. "I don't love him like that anymore. I didn't want to marry him, and I probably never really wanted to. But I still can't be sure if I really made the right choice, or if if I was just acting on impulse like some maniac. And there's other difficulties in this mess – I've seen someone else, someone I really shouldn't be seeing, and our relationship is not in any way romantic but people might think it is. Also, if the press finds out, Harry would be really hurt by it. Everyone would be upset. I can't take that, but I have to help him and he brings out something in me and it's all just so complicated."

She took a deep breath, waiting for a response she never got. Angelina had fallen asleep again. Ginny felt a tear roll down her cheek without her knowing why, and realised that was her cue to sleep. Maybe it would all feel better when she woke up.

xxxxx

In another part of London, Draco Malfoy sat in the wardrobe he was so used to spending time in.

He must've spent the night there, even though he could not remember it. His back and neck hurt from the disturbing sleeping position, and he was in severe need of an anti -hungover spell.

But otherwise, he felt okay. Good, even. He was clueless why.

Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe he was still drunk. Maybe it was just his emotions acting as ambidextrous and unreliable as ever.

He coughed loudly. He had his second appointment with Bob in an hour, according to the magical watch on his wrist. Might just as well get it over with.

Astoria had been waiting for him. She opened the door immediately, allowing Draco to stagger out on his own.

"Hi, Draco." Her poker face showed no emotion, but Draco, who was so used to this face and recognized it so well, could sense both anger and fear.

"Astoria."

"You've been bad, Draco. Bad. You have not stopped meeting with Ginny Weasley. I suspect that you're living with her. I'm going to punish you for that." She kept her poker face, and leaned her body against the wall. It was probably supposed to be sexy, and perhaps many would find it so, but Draco didn't. Not anymore.

"Get your facts straight, Astoria." It was a whisper, weak and doubting.

"Excuse me?"

"Get your facts straight." Louder this time.

"Oh, Draco, _darling_." She laughed, that poisonous laugh that he'd come to hate. "You're so wrong. You don't understand the world. This is how it works; you're mine. You will always be mine."

"No."

For the first time in his life, due to reasons he would never understand, Draco was the one who hit first.


	11. Chapter 10-Spilled Secrets

**Chapter 10; Spilled secrets**

It was the day of the week when the population of London's centre reaches its maximum, when all the tourists invade every national monument – at the same time as families try to amuse their kids, teens hang out with their friends and all the other Londoners run their errands with a serious face and determined steps. The autumn sun shone bright over Westminster, giving London a rare but beautiful autumn day and maybe the last weekend without winter coats and scarves. It was one of the finer days in the history of England's autumn weather, Ginny thought as she made her way down Oxford Street, bumping into people every other step. She could feel a slight warmth from the sun on her face, and found herself dreaming about a long and nice quidditch practice in this weather. Even a run for herself in the woods would be enough to satisfy her. But even if free from obligatory bed rest, she was unavoidably suspended for all training another two weeks. She'd added it to the list of things she would hex Astoria for when she got the chance - the list was nearing a novel by now.

But even suspended from training and mildly annoyed by the crowd, Ginny was in a good mood when she arrived at the Starbucks where they'd decided to meet.

Draco caught her eye immediately, waving enthusiastically towards her from a table for two in the back of the café. She waved back, getting in line to order. She scrutinized the other guests as she waited for the barista to take her order, hoping not to find a face she recognized, and let out a sigh of relief when she didn't.

"I got your owl", said Draco as she sat down with her pumpkin spice latte. Coffee that tasted like pumpkin was one of the weirder muggle inventions she knew of, but it was also one of the tastiest.

"Good", she said. "Took me some time to send it. How have you been?"

"Just fine." His mouth twisted a little, like he wasn't telling her the whole truth. "I've had two meetings with the psychologist. Talked about Astoria."

"Also known as your wife who more or less tried to kill me."

"Uh, yeah." Draco fingered at the patterned scarf he wore around his neck, like he was trying to hide something there. Maybe he was. "Look, I'm really sorry about that… More than sorry. I'm furious. For real."

"Then we've got something in common."

"Look, Ginny, I know you say that you want to help me, but I get it if you've changed your mind. I don't know how you're supposed to help me, and I'm starting to wonder if you know it yourself." His coat was a little too short, and she couldn't help but notice the way too many and way too red scars visible underneath it. She felt a sting in her heart as she did so.

"I guess I don't." She picked mindlessly at her muffin, forgetting to actually eat the crumbles. "But I still want to. Help you, I mean."

"Do you have some kind of save-all complex? Some desperate wish to be a hero?"

"Neither", she said instinctively. "I don't know. All I know is that I care an awful lot about you, and I have no idea why."

"I guess I can say the same." He sipped his tea, and Ginny tried not to stare at his face as he did so. She realised new features about him every time she saw him, cheekbones and jaw and eyes and hair and…

Merlin's beard. She couldn't look at him like that. He was just a friend. They shouldn't even _be_ friends. And yet she did, look at him like that.

"Are you staring at me?"

"No! No, of course not." She shook her head in denial. "My mind just wandered. Can we talk about something else, before I get a headache?"

"Like?"

"Like Quidditch. Did you hear about the Chudley Cannons latest match?"

The muggles who wandered past them saw nothing odd with the couple, and gave them no extra looks. Maybe did they think that the man was a little too skinny, that the woman's face was unhealthily pale, but overall, they minded their own business, a well-evolved mechanism of humans. None of them saw anything weird with the redhead and the blond, skinny and undeniably good-looking man.

Rita Skeeter, currently in her beetle-form, and her photographer, were the only ones who did.

xxxxx

In another part of London, Luna Lovegood was getting off a train, accompanied by her good friend Rolf Scamander. They'd been away for months, researching – well, they'd been supposed to, anyway. Plenty of research had been done, but the co-workers had also taken the chance to get to know each other better.

It had been the best months ever in Luna Lovegood's life, and she knew Rolf felt the same way. To say goodbye to him at King's Cross and take the tube home by herself – it was more burdensome than she'd ever imagined it to be.

She needed to sleep. Desperately and immediately did she need to fall asleep in her own bed, her own apartment. As wonderful as the months with Rolf had been, living in an old cabin in the middle of nowhere, had been, she'd felt homesick every now and then. She missed Ginny, and Harry, and Ron, and Hermione.

"Home, sweet home", Luna said to herself as she opened the door to her apartment. The feeling did however pass very quickly.

Something was wrong. The smell – it was a completely different one. The apartment smelled of cologne, of bacon – which Luna the vegetarian found utterly disgusting – and most of all, alcohol. She could even sense a weak trace of the irony smell of blood.

And the apartment was a mess.

It had been messier, of course. Luna had her own way of organising and wasn't exactly the cleaning type anyways. But this, this was someone else's mess. The apartment had been in perfect order when she left it, thanks to some very efficient cleaning spells Hermione had taught her. Now the bed was undone, showing traces of a body. There were books scattered over the whole apartment, newspapers, odd bits of parchment with writing on them, half-empty glasses of water and dirty plates, even clothes. None of the items were Luna's.

Ginny was the only owner of an extra-key to Luna's apartment. She had a few things to explain, Luna thought as she dragged a plastic bag filled with bottles of a clear liquid out from underneath the sofa. She didn't really recognize the brands, but she had her guesses. All of them related to alcohol, which a quick sniff at one of them confirmed.

Every trace of her exhaustion was gone in the blink of an eye, and it was a furious Luna that wrote a letter to Ginny and sent it via her owl, Crankie. She sunk down on the blue carpet to try to calm herself, petting the bronze raven on the head.

"Can you tell me who's been staying here?" she asked the raven.

"Dra…" The raven's voice creaked, hoarse from not speaking for months. "Dra..co.. Mal…foy."

xxxxx

Draco Malfoy was, perhaps luckily, not planning on sleeping at Luna's apartment that night. He and Ginny had abandoned the crowded café after an hour, realising the evil glares they got probably meant that other people wanted their table. They were now having tea in Ginny's apartment instead, chatting and laughing and discussing both easy and more serious subjects.

"Have you heard that rumour about Pansy Parkinson and Zabini?"

"What was your record for staying awake in Professor Binns classes?"

"I missed you like crazy last week."

Draco talked a little about his therapy while Ginny listened respectfully. Ginny told him a little about why she'd ended it with Harry, and Draco listened with just as much respect.

He knew how illogical it was, but he still thought about how he'd never been able to talk as freely and easily as he could with Ginny. A blood traitor from Gryffindor, ex-fiancée of his enemy, now his best friend. She gave him power and support through just a look, made him a better person every time she entered the room.

He wanted so bad to express these feelings, but they seemed to be one of the very few things he couldn't tell her.

xxxxx

The owl interrupted them in the middle of a discussion about whether treacle tart or pumpkin pie was the best dessert. The discussion had almost turned into a debate by now, but they were laughing hysterically nonetheless. Ginny, a pumpkin pie fan, thought the fresh and naturally sweet fruit mixed with the crumbly pie shell to be a winning concept, while Draco insisted on the exaggerated sweetness of treacle tart. The debate was far from serious, but Ginny still felt upset when the owl disturbed it. The envelope said 'Read Immediately' in Luna's handwriting, and the owl looked to stubborn for even Ginny to disobey. She excused herself and went into the kitchen to read it.

As she did so, and understood what she would have to do, her heart broke into a million pieces.

"I thought you had quit drinking."

"I… what?"

"You said you weren't drinking anymore, but the true owner of your temporary man cave is back and she wasn't thrilled to find a plastic bag with muggle alcohol under her sofa. She wasn't very happy to find any belonging of yours, I might add, but that's my problem."

"I… I'm sorry, Ginny." Draco's voice was so quiet it was barely audible.

"So am I." Silence.

"So… what happens now?" Draco asked, just as quiet, after what felt like an eternity's worth of not talking. Ginny handed him the letter.

" _Oh, and Ginny, if you still want to stay friends with me, cut that man out of your life. I know he's no good. He can come to my apartment if he wants his underpants and his abominable alcohol back."_

xxxxx

And that was the explanation to why Draco once again found himself curled into a ball in a dark side alley, with a coat that had been too cold in early September and henceforth felt even worse in early October. The sky was sharing his grief, emptying itself in buckets, and the little piece of roof he had to hide under was not enough to fully guard him against it.

He had almost forgotten the feeling of this, and couldn't understand how. Of course he would end up here again, of course it was his inevitable fate. Everything good in life is temporary.

He wished he could contact Bob. He wished he could contact anyone who wasn't Astoria.

He rummaged in his backpack and found a bottle of vodka, hexed to be invisible when anyone but him searched the bag. He uncapped it and helped himself to a sip of the clear liquid, and another and another – but it didn't fill him with the warm contentment it usually did. It just filled him with disgust and self-loath. Pathetic, worthless, mentally disturbed, alcoholic Draco Malfoy who destroyed every chance he got to turn his life around.

He had no razor blades in the bag, but if he used his nails to scratch himself really hard, maybe that would help to soothe him.

xxxxx

In another part of London, Ginny Weasley was desperately trying to fall asleep, and she was doing everything but succeeding.

It was not that she wasn't used to sleeping alone – her new bed weren't even made for two. It was not that her bed wasn't comfortable enough, or that she was too energetic too sleep, not that she didn't want to and not that her sleeping pattern had gotten out of hand.

She had never really had any issues with sleeping before. It was a personality trait she shared with all her brothers, always had, except for the last month. The last month had been something else. A nightmare, if you wanted.

Her brain, in dire need of sleep but unfortunately as stubborn as the rest of her, just wouldn't quit thinking. It especially refused to quit thinking about the subject she least wanted to focus on. A frantic Luna had been to visit her just an hour earlier, more enraged than Ginny had ever seen her.

Luna had told her, face to face this time, to immediately cease helping "the awful, awful man to who you will never owe anything". Ginny had tried to explain, tried to make her friend understand that there was more to the story, but it had seemed an impossible quest even for her, the convincing debater who'd practised the art of making her voice heard since birth.

She had two choices, according to Luna. Forget Draco and lose Luna as a friend, or forget Draco and stay friends with Luna. A ten year old friendship was worth more than a month old one. Weren't it?

Her thoughts told her otherwise as she heard the rain hit her window in an arrhythmical melody. It reminded her of when she'd first found Draco, the night that had been her last good night with Harry – the night something inside of her realised how unappealing she really found their relationship. It had been the night with a whisper of _unpredictable_ echoing through her brain, and the night that changed her forever.

Helping Draco had not become less illogical over the past month. It had only become more of a routine, more natural, and she'd grown to care for him much more than she had wanted and expected to.

She wished she was skilled enough to perform the magic that separates memories from your mind. Most of all, she wished there existed an equivalent with your feelings.

It was the middle of the night, a pitch black sky and a chilly temperature outside, and Ginny Weasley officially declared herself an idiot when she got out of bed, pulled a sweater over her head and stuck her legs into oversized sweatpants, put on shoes and a jacket and apparated.

xxxxx

It was with her head full of dizziness that she arrived at a deserted Diagon Alley. The not quite full moon illuminated the street, giving it a spooky light that made Ginny feel queasy. She wasn't half as confident now as she'd been last time she wandered the side allies of London.

Fear of burglars and rapists and Merlin-knew-what still made her keep a fast pace. She'd made up her mind, and there was no turning back.

Draco Malfoy sat in the same alley she'd found him the first time. She could barely see him at first - the night was a lot darker now than it had been in September. But as soon as she could make out the contours of his body, familiar to her even in a hunched sleeping position, her heartbeat quickened.

He didn't notice her until she was right in front of him. His gaze was doubting, hesitant – like he expected her to scream at him.

"Come with me", she said, trying hard not to make her voice quiver.

"Why? So you can insult me, tell me all the terrible things about myself I already know?"

"I'm offering you to come live in my apartment." Draco snorted at that.

"Really? Why would you? Choose your friend over me, Ginny. Do yourself a favour. I won't do you any good."

Her heartbeat was acting like crazy now, beating and beating at an unhealthy speed.

"I'm not doing this for you, Draco. I'm doing this for me, too."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that I need you." She took a deep breath. "I mean that I can't live without our discussions about quidditch and desserts, or your sense of humor, or without everything you've taught me about how people can change." She grabbed his hand, ignoring the fact that it was both ice cold and dry. "Come with me."

xxxxx

Harry Potter had slept poorly, and was therefore not in his best mood this early Sunday morning. Neither Ron nor Hermione was awake yet, and the house was quiet, but it was also peaceful. He would make coffee, butter a bread roll, and have a calm morning for himself while reading the news… an ideal Sunday morning, really. He tried to brighten his own mood with the thought of a big mug rich, hot coffee with just a splash of milk, no sugar, and newly baked focaccia. He was free from auror training and were to have a calm, pleasant Sunday. Harry had almost convinced himself this was going to be a good day, when he saw the magazine hiding under today's issue of The Daily Prophet. It was Witch Weekly, the disgusting gossip magazine that Rita Skeeter never seemed to stop writing for, and it always contained a tremendous amount of false rumours about him, Ginny, Ron and Hermione. What could it be this week? He would have to read it to be able to correct people later, so he might just as well get it over with.

Harry Potter almost choked on his coffee when seeing the first page.

Then he read the article it referred to.

Then his whole world started spinning, and Harry fainted.

xxxxx

 _Ginny Weasley spotted with Draco Malfoy – WHAT CAN HARRY HAVE TO SAY ABOUT HER NEW LOVER?_

 _It was in a muggle café that our source spotted the unlikely couple, chatting and enjoying each other's presence. "They seemed really happy together", says our anonymous source._

 _Has Harry Potter's ex-girlfriend truly moved on? Has she switched type, or is she dating an old enemy of his just to upset him?_

 _Rita Skeeter updates you on the latest happenings between The Chosen One and his Chosen Girlfriend, and takes you through the history of Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy. Read on to find out everything!_

The article continued for four more pages, but Ginny lacked the energy to read any of them. She was sitting at the kitchen table with her head in her hands, analysing the possibilities for her and Draco to flee somewhere nobody knew them, but knew it would just make everything look even more suspicious.

Merlin, she'd screwed up bad this time. What would Harry say? What would her brothers say? Her family? Her colleagues? This was too bad to be true, but there the article was and she was expected to deal with the consequences. Great, just great.

"What's happened?" Draco had entered the kitchen, barely awake with a gravelly voice and his blonde hair in a mess. Ginny passed him the magazine, and he started reading, his expression shifting between surprise, fear, and maybe a weak glimpse of happiness, but she could've imagined that.

"This is ridiculous", he said when finished, and sat down on the kitchen chair next to Ginny. "I'm not your lover. You're a friend, you've helped me a great deal and kind of saved my life, but you're not my lover." He said all this really quickly.

"Exactly! There's nothing between us, right?" She gave the article a frustrated look and then met his gaze.

"Nothing", Draco agreed.

"Absolutely nothing." 

It was a moment of absolute silence, like time stood still. Then Draco leaned forward, and Ginny did the same, and neither of them could think very clear as their lips met in a mesmerizing unification.

A/N:

Thank you so much for your reviews on the latest chapter! They really make me happy and I hope you'll like this chapter too – sorry for no Astoria in this one, but she's biding her time and will be back…


	12. Chapter 11-Burn

**Chapter 11; Burn**

It had been a long day for Narcissa Malfoy, and it wasn't over yet.

They were all long to her. Never-ending, infinite days that melted into each other, nothing ever changing. They consisted of her, her unnecessarily huge and soft bed and the pain she was so enmeshed in.

Narcissa, bed, pain.

It had been her whole life for a while now.

A magazine lay on her stomach, unread. Reading was her only method to get through the days without dying of boredom, but this day had been too painful even for that. It felt like a storm of wild centaurs had invaded her head, running around in circles and stomping their hooves aggressively.

They were finally going to sleep now, giving her a temporary rest. The healers had told her she had about a year, maybe less. She hoped for less. It was an unknown disease, they'd said, and they could do nothing but give her medication for the pain and then wait it out.

She had survived the Great Wizard War, the Battle of Hogwarts, and she'd survived Lord Voldemort in all his glory, but she was not surviving this. It was pathetic. But perhaps was it the fate she deserved.

She reached for the magazine. When she wasn't in pain, she was restless, and unable to sleep all the same. It was the latest Witch Weekly, delivered in the mail yesterday. Everything she needed and didn't need to know about the lives of people she had no interest in anymore. They were reminders of what she'd once been, what she no longer was.

Her husband had divorced her soon after the battle. Her only son hadn't spoken to her in years. Her pure blood was no longer a symbol of status. Narcissa was a nothing. A dying nothing.

But the font in Witch Weekly was a pleasing size to her sensitive eyes, so she devoured the magazine anyway.

Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley were planning a trip to Mauritius. Neville Longbottom was applying for a teaching job at Hogwarts – Herbology, the nerdiest subject possible. The Chudley Cannons were thinking of recruiting some guy named Oliver Wood. None of it was of any interest to her, and she was very close to putting the magazine aside when a headline caught her attention.

The moment she was finished reading, the centaurs had returned, powerful as ever. She closed her bloodshot eyes and tried to breathe away the pain. It was an absolutely worthless technique, but the medicines made her dizzy and nauseous and would only make her forget what she just read.

Draco. Her Draco. Her son.

He was alive. He was obviously well enough to date someone. She did not even care who, as long as it meant he was happy.

A tear of relief and joy rolled down her cheek before the pain increased to a brand new level of torture and she screamed out loud.

xxxxx

Astoria Malfoy didn't share Narcissa's relief and gratitude over the newspaper clip. Astoria Malfoy seldom felt gratitude over anything, but this – this made her insides bubble and boil of anger, and her brain get to work with the plan of revenge. Revenge, revenge, revenge.

The Ginny girl had, much unfortunately, survived her wounds caused by the Sectumsempra curse. She could be prepared for Astoria to try that one again.

Avada Kedavra was too risky – even if the redhead's death would put a definite end to Draco's almost-happiness, it would also most likely put Astoria in Azkaban. There must be better ways to maim the girl or to sabotage their relationship. Sabotage… Wreck… Burn…

A punishment. An attack. The perfect revenge plan. She was going to combine them all, and the outcome wouldn't be pretty. But it would be satisfying. And she'd come up with the perfect idea.

"Burn, burn, burn", she whispered to herself while constructing the plan in her head.

xxxxx

The last time Ginny had been this nervous before a Sunday dinner with the Weasleys had been when she and Harry declared their engagement. At least they'd been two about it then, already knowing everyone would approve. This was nothing like that. This was her, only her, and she was strongly doubting how approving her family would be.

It would've been easier if the newspaper clip was nothing but a nonsensical rumour, something she could decline without thought. But nothing was ever just easy for her.

The lights were on in The Burrow, a clear contrast to the dull and grey weather England offered today. Yesterday's sun seemed to have been only a temporary confusion, and now autumn was back to its usual self. She would've been shivering if her nerves hadn't made her feel sweaty.

"Ginny." She'd barely entered the hallway before her mother stood in front of her. With a quite impressive length of 5 ft 8, Ginny practically towered over her mother, but an upset Molly Weasley would make even Hagrid's mother feel small.

"It smells delicious", she said in a desperate effort to steer the conversation towards a friendlier subject.

"Do you have something to explain, Miss _Malfoy_?"

"It's Witch Weekly, mom. You need to stop trusting Rita Skeeter. She also said Ron and Hermione were planning a trip to Mauritius, which seems pretty unlikely to me." Bill waltzed in from the living room before Ginny had time to defend herself. "Hi, sis. How are you? Would you mind joining me and George for a game of Exploding Snap?"

Molly stood numb as Ginny followed her brother into the living room, radiating a mysterious feeling of knowing something Bill didn't. But then again, Molly Weasley always knew. It was possible to fool every member of the Weasley family, but it wasn't possible to fool her. It was only a matter of time before the truth would leak, and Ginny didn't look forward to it.

On today's table stood Molly's meatballs with onion sauce and mashed potatoes, Victoire's favourite and therefore an obligatory meal for the whole family at least every other Sunday. Victoire herself was busy chasing four year old Teddy round the dinner table, her parents struggling with the challenge of getting her to quit the game and sit down in her high chair. The game eventually ended when Teddy chose to surrender, making the two year old scream of happiness and pride.

"If two children gives us this much entertainment at dinner, we'll have a circus soon enough." Arthur laughed and ruffled his granddaughter's veela-blonde, princess-like hair.

"You'll have twice as many in January." George gave his father a big smile, putting his hand on Angelina's baby bump.

"I'm looking forward to it."

"Me too", Angelina muttered. "These false contractions are killing me. At least _he_ sleeps at night." She gave her husband an envious look.

"You two will be able to share that burden soon enough", said Molly with a smile. "Help yourself to food, everyone… _No_ , Ron, children first!"

The dinner wasn't nearly as unpleasant as Ginny had thought it would be. Molly didn't talk to her and neither did Ron or Harry, but otherwise the dinner was full of life and laughter. They all laughed at Ron stuffing himself with food, cheered when Bill and George competed about how many meatballs they could fit in their mouth at the same time, listened patiently to Teddy when he talked about his new toy broom, and got caught in an intense discussion about Puddlemere United's last game. Everything was as it should be, except from the upset glares Harry gave her from the other end of the table. She didn't really blame him. Ron gave her the same ones, Molly did as well, and Hermione just looked at her with pity. At least no one brought the subject up, not until Molly had went to get the dessert.

"I heard you two were going to Mauritius", said Percy with a meaningful glance at Ron and Hermione."

"I wish." Hermione rolled her eyes. "It would be wonderful, if it only was true."

"What – we're not going?" Ron looked at her with great surprise.

" _No_ , you moron!"

"But I thought you said something about a trip…"

"To visit Neville at Hogwarts, yes. Not to Mauritius."

"Quite a difference", Harry reminded his best friend with a pat on the shoulder.

"There's always the lake", said Bill. "I bet The Giant Squid would love some company."

"I'm not a huge fan of the lake", said his youngest brother. "I was imprisoned there for half an eternity once, and so was Hermione."

"Eternities? You were unconscious! And I saved you, you unthankful little brat!" Harry gave him an upset look.

"I'm just saying, it would've been a lot more enjoyable if the quest had been in Mauritius…"

"There were other interesting material in Witch Weekly today", said Arthur with a meaningful look at Ginny. "Do you have something to tell us?"

"Yeah, Gin, something you'd like to tell us?" George gave her a wide grin.

"Rita Skeeter really needs something new to write about", said Harry before she'd opened her mouth. "I'm guessing she ran out of ideas, and used some photo-magic for the picture." He talked fast, like he himself didn't believe what he was saying. "Right, Ginny?"

It broke her heart.

As the green eyes met her brown like they'd done so many times before, the pieces continued to split themselves, a mitosis of pain. Harry, her Harry. He deserved to know the truth, didn't he?"

"I…" She swallowed. "I'm afraid…"

"Stop", said Angelina with a strained voice. "Everyone stop talking." All eyes turned to her instantaneously.

"Is something wrong, Angelina?" Molly, who had just arrived with a stunning lemon meringue pie, looked at her daughter-in-law with concern.

"I-think-my-water-just-broke", said the sudden centre of attention so fast it became a single word.

"Ha-ha", said George. "Stop kidding. It's like 10 weeks left."

"Shut that great ugly mouth of yours up or I'll… aahh!" Angelina grabbed her husband's arm so hard he went pale.

After that, chaos erupted, and no one cared about Ginny the slightest anymore.

xxxxx

Draco had made himself comfortable in the window seat this Sunday night. He had made himself a big cup of organic chai tea, found a random book in a box, and was doing his best to stay focused on the story. Draco found reading to be one of the most magical things in the world. To open a book and live someone else's life, to lose yourself in a captivating story and forget about the outside world, to laugh and to cry and to be inspired all because of an unique combination of 26 letters on a bunch of papers – that was magic in its truest form. The best parts of his childhood had been when people would read to him, tell him stories of brave wizards and wild spirits, use their usually so harsh voices to just tell him a story. Those had been the moments that saved him.

His mother had read to him sometimes. Not very often, but she had. He had wished for time to stop when she did so, wished for the moment to never ever pass. Yet they always did.

His father had never read his son a single word.

Draco would probably never be a father. He was too messed up a person for that, convinced his life would end before he got the chance to make something good of it.

But if his life in some miraculous way would ever gift him with that, Draco promised himself he would read to his kids.

"I loved that book." He had gotten so into the story that he hadn't noticed Ginny arriving. He moved his feet, and she took the other end of the seat. "We read it in Muggle Studies my fifth year. I believe I got an O on my paper."

"It's really interesting." Draco put an old sticky note from his pocket at his last read page and closed the book, examining the cover. It was a fairly uninteresting cover, showing only a black tree with white leaves against an orange-toned background, but the story had made up for it.

"What the muggles call racism… we're no different, you know?" She was twirling her crimson hair round her index finger, a motion of thought. "Pure-bloods. Mud-bloods. White people. Black people. We don't judge people for the colour of their skin, but we do judge them for their blood. We're no better than Alabama in the early 1930's."

"It sounds really depressing, when you put it like that. But I do guess you're right."

"I think I saw my own family in Atticus", said Ginny. "We're pure-blood. Many still don't understand why we… choose not to care about it. Why we choose to believe it doesn't matter. Unlike your family."

"I grew up believing I was better than anyone else because of my blood." Draco snorted. "Look how far that got me."

"People change."

"Yeah." He met her eyes. "How did the dinner go?"

"Apart from the fact that my sister-in-law was rushed to , in labor 10 weeks before her due date, it went fine." She gave her two-way mirror a quick glance before putting it down in her pocket again. "My mother's there, and so is Fleur and Hermione. She's in good company."

"Do all your family dinners end that way? Ours seem really lame compared to that."

"Aren't they practically just death eater meetings?"

" _No!"_ Draco protested. "Yes", he admitted after some thought. "When you mention it, I don't think we've had one in like, ten years."

"I would love to invite you the next one, but I'm afraid I didn't get the chance to tell them the truth about what they read in Witch Weekly." Ginny put her head in her hands, looking resigned. "Sorry about my failure."

"I didn't ask you to do anything."

"I know. I just… The sooner I tell them the truth, the better. You're living in my apartment, for Merlin's sake."

"Ginny." He looked at her with compassion, opening his thin arms to let her body rest against his. "It will be okay. Somehow, it'll be fine."

"If our experiences so far is the definition of fine, I'm not sure I want to know the definition of _not_ fine." Her voice was quiet, melodic, and Draco could not help but take advantage of his chance to breathe in the flowery scent of her hair.

"We'll manage."

"I'm really lucky to have you", she whispered before her breathing got heavier and her eyelids closed. She was fast asleep, the warmth of her next to him so calming, so precious.

He kissed her forehead ever so lightly before closing his eyes himself, sleep greeting him instantly.

They were safe. They were sound. Or so they thought.

xxxxx

Out on the pitch-dark and shadowy streets, Astoria Malfoy was sneaking around, going through the last details of her strike. Ginny had entered the apartment building marked with a 45 an hour earlier, enough time for her and Draco to go to sleep. Did they sleep together? She was sure they did. They probably did more than that, the dirty little delinquents…

Whatever they were doing, this would interrupt them.

She was preparing herself for the Fiendfyre spell, a difficult spell who took a lot of energy and skill to perform. Maybe she should've practised?

"Fiendos fyro", she whispered, and saw the flames appear, not as big as she'd hoped for, but big enough.

Five floors up, Draco Malfoy woke to the smell of smoke.

A/N: Thank you guys for reading! You are amazing and I feel so honoured. (I know you're not _that_ many, but I still feel proud, haha.) I just wanted to say a few things;

-I really appreciate your comments and I'm so glad you want more! But I want you to know that I can't promise new chapters every week, I can't promise anything. Life's life, I write when I have the time and inspiration!

-The book they're talking about is To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee, if that's not obvious.

-Oh, yes, Harry is still joining the Weasley Sunday Dinners. He's part of the family, no matter if he's engaged to Ginny or not.

-I could talk about this fanfiction forever, but sadly, I won't. Hope you liked this chapter as well!


	13. Chapter 12-An eventful night

**Chapter 12; An eventful night**

"Ginny! GINNY!" Draco was screaming, stretching his voice capacity to maximum.

"I hear you! I'm awake! What's happening?" Her voice was panicked, mirroring his own feelings without fault. They were stumbling around in the window seat, half standing and half sitting, both of them too freaked out to know what they were doing.

"It's a fire… I don't know how… Merlin…"

"We need to get out. Immediately. "The flames were closing in on them, everything alit. Draco could hear unnerving sounds of neighbours screaming, floorboards breaking, flames rattling. He felt the panic rise in his chest, a familiar feeling, and knew that it was for real this time. Not a very reassuring thought.

"Ginny, we need to jump!"

"I figured". She'd already opened the window. "You're not afraid of heights, are you?"

"It's not like we have any other option." Sweat was dripping from his forehead, from every part of him. "Do you have your wand?"

"Back pocket." Ginny's voice was shaking. She was terrified, a feeling he'd never seen in her before.

"Let's go." He reached out his burning hot and much too sweaty hand, grabbing hers. They took a unified step forward.

And jumped.

xxxxx

Francesco Holden had been looking forward to a calm night as a fireman.

Yeah. He knew. He knew that he should've picked another job if he wanted calm. But a hazardous, action-filled profession where he saved lives – it had been his childhood dream. To save lives. To be a hero. And he had loved it at age 25. Risking your own life to save others gives you plenty of self-esteem. His work days were never boring, never dull. He was strong, fast and a hero. He was everything his young self ever dreamed about.

Then Francesco Holden met a girl, proposed and got married. Then he became a father. Twice. And suddenly, he lacked the energy to be a hero. He had a three year old daughter and a five months old son, and his role as a hero grew smaller as his role as a father grew bigger.

Francesco Holden didn't need any more action. He wanted a calm night, a night when his services were non-mandatory. He wanted to be half-asleep in a sofa, pretending to listen to his colleagues muffled discussions. He did sure as hell _not_ want to be where he currently was, riding in a fire truck with blinking lights and the ear-splitting alarm blasting through the silence of the night.

"The police are already there", his co-worker James leaned over to tell him. "They think they might've found who started it."

"Who?"

"Young woman, was all they said. I guess we'll see soon." They were nearing the burning apartment building.

A bunch of people had gathered outside the building, stumbling around in shock as if they couldn't believe what they saw. A fire does that to you.

"My cat… my cat… my cat… Rosalinda…" An older lady was the first one to greet Francesco. "You need to save my cat!" She was rocking back and forth to calm herself down.

"We'll see what we can do, miss. Do you know if anyone's still in there?"

"My cat, Mister Fireman! _My cat!_ "

"You said that." He tried to talk to her soothingly as his co-workers begun to spray the building with water. "Anyone else?"

"They would be dead by now then, wouldn't they?"

Ginny and Draco were fine, all thanks to Ginny's brilliant but illegal use of the Arresto Momentum-spell. Both of them were catching their breath at a relatively safe distance from the fire, observing the inferno and trying to understand what could not be understood.

"This is fiend-fyre", said Ginny quietly.

"I was thinking the same thing."

"This is intentional."

"This is Astoria", Draco corrected her. "Nobody else would do this."

As the fire-men worked their hardest to put out the fire, they thought it to be an unusually stubborn one. They had no idea that this - this was a weak fiend-fyre, since it was possible to put out with muggle methods. Luckily so, because the whole city of London in flames? Not a great idea.

Astoria was a beginner with fiend-fyre, and her weakness saved London that night.

But the fire-men didn't know that, and neither did the police. They knew nothing about the young woman they'd caught. She could've been beautiful, if it weren't for the ripped clothes and her hollow look, or the unwillingness to mouth a single word to any of them.

"Psychotic?" asked one of the police officers, a bald man in his late fifties.

"Very likely. She's going to need a psych evaluation first thing – hey, what is this weird stick in her pocket?" His co-worker showed Astoria's wand to him.

"Maybe she thinks it's a magic wand or something like that. She seems as mad as a hatter." The police officer snorted.

Astoria barely flinched as the officer threw her wand, 13 inches walnut with a core of dragon-string to her, a random worthless stick to him, in a trash bin nearby.

Francesco had eventually gotten word that, in fact, a young girl from the fourth floor had not yet exited the burning apartment building. He was used to this process, had done it countless times before. It would all work out just fine.

He entered the building thinking about the dress he was going to buy his daughter for her fourth birthday. A black one, with coral dots and puffy arms. She'd fallen in love with it at their last visit to Marks and Spencer's. He was going to remember to buy it tomorrow. Oh, he could already picture the joy in his daughter's face when she unwrapped the gift paper…

But Francesco Holden never exited the building.

xxxxx

"I'm going to kill Astoria, I'm going to kill her, I'm going to kill her!" Ginny was in a rage, pacing back and forth while cursing wildly. "Attempting to murder me wasn't enough? She has to go burn my house and all my belongings to the ground while she's at it to be satisfied?"

"You'll get money back from your insurance." Draco tried his best to calm her down, but his efforts were fruitless, because he was just as angry himself. The fear he'd once had for his spouse was disappearing progressively, hatred replacing it. He was furious now, not afraid. The sudden change of emotions confused him, but he didn't mind. To, for once, be furious at anyone else but himself, was a nice feeling.

"I don't want money! I want – I want to not have to deal with any of this!" She broke down into a sob, collapsing in a pile of autumn leaves. "I don't have the energy to."

"I'm sorry, for all it's worth", Draco said as he sat down next to her. "This is my fault, more or less."

"No, Draco." The look she gave him was full of compassion, perhaps even the slightest hint of love. "It's not your fault. It's never been."

The fire-men were almost done, but the house still reeked of smoke. And the air still smelled of it, a horrid smell that made Draco's eyes water and his lungs burn.

"We need to find shelter for the night", said Ginny as they watched the fire-men finish their work. "Do you have any ideas?"

"I used to sleep on the streets, remember?" He shook his head. "I'm afraid we'll have to count on your connections. Any suggestions?"

"One, but it won't be popular."

"This is _not_ a good idea, Ginny." Hermione Granger looked like she hadn't slept in weeks. Her hair was even messier than Draco remembered it, and her face expression completely shone of exhaustion.

"It's an emergency, Mione."

"I know." Hermione stepped aside with a sigh, letting them enter. "You better come in."

Draco had never really thought much about what Hermione Granger's home would look like, but as he stepped inside, he knew that he would never have pictured it like this.

It was messy. Hermione was an excessively organized person, but her apartment seemed to be the opposite. Bookshelves lined the walls, to little surprise, but they were demonstratively unorganized. The rustic wooden floor was dressed with varicoloured rugs, and the living room housed no less than three maroon couches of plush. The fireplace, the heavy curtains, the paintings occupying every available centimetre of wall – it reminded of Hogwarts common rooms. He adored it.

He was just about to compliment Hermione on her amiable interior, when he heard something else.

"You…" Ron Weasley had joined them, and he was eyeing Draco with eyes full of fury. "How dare you enter this house, you evil little cockroach?" He spit out the words. "Get the hell away from my sister". Before Draco could react, he'd been punched in the face.

He could've just stood there, taking it. But he'd done that enough in his life. And he was tired, but he was also angry, and he couldn't resist the urge to punch back.

And suddenly, a full-scale fight had broken out in the Granger-Weasley hallway at 3 am in the morning.

"I can't have this." Ten minutes later, everyone had, if a little unwillingly, taken their seat round the kitchen table. Hermione was the one talking, simultaneously giving her husband and Draco evil glances.

"I can't have _him_ in my house", Ron protested.

"He's a friend of mine." Ginny had her arms crossed, and looked at her brother with burning hatred.

"You have every right to kick me out", Draco insisted.

" _Stop it!"_ Hermione raised her voice. "Ron, I'll talk to you later and explain what Ginny has told me. Ginny and Draco, you're our guests and you're both welcome in our apartment. There's a bed in the guestroom. Harry's… out."

"I'm not having that creep sleep with my little sister! I'm not having it! He sleeps on the _floor_!"

"Ronald Weasley, if you don't shut up now and go to bed, I swear I will hex your bits off!"

"I don't think I've had an evening this eventful since The Battle of the Hogwarts", Ginny said as she buried herself under the magically renewed covers. She had magically wiped off her makeup and undressed fast as lightning, but Draco was still hesitating.

"I… I'm not sure if I should… I mean, I can sleep on the floor if you want me too."

"Don't be stupid."

"It's… It's a small bed, Ginny." And he had to undress unless he wanted to sweat through the night. And he hated the sight of his naked, fragile body with its ugly scars and too visible bones. And he wasn't worth it. He wasn't worth sharing a bed with an attractive girl.

She was perfect, and he was a mess.

"It fits two. Come on. You need the sleep just as much as I do. I'm not getting into a debate over whether you're allowed to sleep in my bed or not." She sat up straight and moved as close to the wall she could get without melting into it.

"Ginny."

"Draco."

"Okay." His voice was barely audible. "If you turn off the light." She did as he said, and he started undressing, his hands shaking through the whole process.

He was still shaking as he lay down next to her, but her presence never failed to calm him.

In one part of London, Draco and Ginny fell asleep next to each other, so close they might've been one single body.

In another part of London, Astoria woke up.

Her mind was spinning, twisting, turning. Her thoughts were a jungle of reality and fantasies, and she was barely conscious that she was in the hands of forensic psychiatry. Wherever she was, she would be able to break out of it soon, right?

That's when she realised her wand was missing, and the whole building could hear the scream that came afterwards.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
this chapter is so not the best thing I've written and I'm sorry. Lots of stress in my life right now. But THANK YOU for reading! I'll try to make up for this chapter as soon as possible.


	14. Chapter 13-Apologies

**Chapter 13; Apologies**

"Mr. Potter, I have to inform you that the results on your latest exam were disastrous." Harry looked up from his focused inspection of the pair of boots he was wearing, and met the authoritarian face of his professor in Advanced Auror Knowledge, Mrs Zak. She reminded him of Minerva McGonagall, except for the fact that McGonagall had actually liked him, while Mrs Zak didn't seem to like anyone. The rest – the tight hair bun, the cold expression, the awe-inspiring attitude – it was all the same. You didn't fail Mrs Zak's exams. You just didn't.

"My sincerest apologies, Mrs Zak."

"An apology won't change the fact that you, on question number 31, answered that the creatures guarding the Azkaban Prison are _centaurs_ , and we send people to Azkaban 'because it's fun'." She put down the parchment roll and met Harry's unsure gaze. "What's going on? Mr Potter, you've been one of my most determined students throughout your whole education here, until now. How come you suddenly seem so distraught?"

"It's nothing", he answered. "I'm sorry. Is there any possibility I could take the test again?"

"Potter, I read the news. I, myself, have once experienced the pain of losing a lover…"

"There's no need for pity, Mrs Zak." He stood up and left the meeting room, ignoring Mrs Zak's protests. Harry wasn't born a very fast walker, but this time he made it out from the Ministry in less than five minutes, an exceptionally good time. He continued walking, so fast he might as well have been running, and didn't stop until he reached Hyde Park, where he collapsed on the damp grass. It was not very comfortable, the dew soaking into his clothes and making him shiver, but it was manageable compared to his remaining pain.

The two-way mirror lay in his jeans pocket, demonstratively silent. He reached for it now, asking for the person he wanted to talk to the most and simultaneously the least.

Ginny picked up on the third signal.

"Harry?"

"Please, tell me", he whispered to the mirror. "Where did we go wrong?"

Then he ended the call, immediately bursting into tears.

xxxxx

Astoria felt like a disobedient puppy.

Well, she felt like people treated her like one. She wasn't _that_ wacked in the head, even if the personnel in here seemed to think she was. She'd spent her latest 24 hours in the same room, muggle doctors occasionally entering to talk about her and never directly to her. They used words like _psychotic_ , _narcissistic_ , words she'd never even heard before. She'd refused the food they offered her, struggled against the nurse trying to put an IV in her arm, and eventually swallowed some pills just because they had an aesthetically pleasing colour.

The pills had made everything better. She felt like she'd had too much fire-whiskey at a party _and_ been through a wizarding duel with someone. Her brain was fuzzy like the inside of her favourite slippers, her body sore and tired in the comfortable way. Her thoughts were a jumble of real and not real, fantasy and reality, but it pleased her.

Astoria had been given a sheet of white paper and a weird sort of pen, nothing like the yellowed parchment and quill she was used to. The nurse had asked her to "write down her feelings". Feelings? Feelings? What were feelings? Funny word, feelings. Astoria laughed too herself. She had no idea how to write down her feelings, and certainly not with this amount of medication in her system. She was barely even able to form an actual thought…

But there was one thing she wanted to write. So she grabbed the pen, successfully guessing it was used roughly the same way as a quill, and started scribbling with big, uneven, letters.

xxxxx

 _Dear Draco,_

 _This was not how it was supposed to be._

 _I was only looking out for you, like every wife does for her husband. I love you, Draco. My love is real love. The red-haired slut says she loves you, but her love is fake, Draco, it is fake. I'm trying to save you._

 _Come save me. You owe me that._

 _Either that or I'll get out by myself._

 _And if I do, the next time will be even worse._

 _XOXO, Astoria._

The owl that had come to deliver the letter must've been the ugliest owl Draco had ever seen. On top of that, it had also given him a sharp bite which made him scream out loud when he tried to take the letter. He watched it fly away with a great deal of satisfaction, and went on to scrutinize the envelope. It was different from the envelopes he was used to – this was unnaturally white, straight and clean. The letters forming his name were too neat, and the whole thing made suspicion rise in his chest. Still he was unable to ignore it. What harm could a letter do?

He opened it, immediately recognizing the hand-writing and feeling his chest tighten as he did so. He read it. He read it again. His heart was beating faster, he was sweating and freezing at the same time, and he thought to himself, _not again_. He wasn't able to think much further than that.

Minutes later, Ron Weasley discovered that he'd forgot his lunch at home. Remembering the tasteful curry chicken with peanuts from yesterday that awaited him in his fridge, he decided against buying lunch in the cafeteria.

"I'll just apparate home and get it, I'll be back in ten", he promised his lunch-buddy Caleb, a mere stand-in lunch buddy to him in Harry's absence.

Apparition had never been Ron's greatest skill. Even if he'd never had to experience the traumatizing encounter of losing half a shoulder a second time, leaving half an eyebrow was kind of his signature move by now. He rubbed the empty space over his blue eyes as he rummaged through the fridge, looking for a box of left-over rice to go with the chicken. Why did Hermione have to put food in separate boxes? It just wasn't _logical_ , and to make it all worse, he'd left his wand with Caleb… He was just about to call her trough the two-way mirror when another sound reached his ears. It sounded like someone was breathing in panic, perhaps crying. Ginny had gone to sort through what was left of her things from yesterday's fire, and so the only person at home would be Draco. The bare thought of having to comfort Draco Malfoy made Ron flinch, but there was something in the panicked breaths he heard that made him remember times he wanted to forget, and so he closed the fridge and walked over to the guest room.

"Leavemealone", a shaky voice said when Ron opened the door. Draco was in fetus position on top of the unmade bed, shaking so much he might as well have been vibrating.

"Hey, mate, what's going on?" Draco's shaking state gave Ron undesirable flashbacks to the weeks after the battle, watching George like this, shaking and hyperventilating and never crying, only screaming.

"Like you'd care", the shaky voice answered him, continuing to hyperventilate. "You, you hate me."

"I…" There it was, the bad conscience. "I don't hate you", he whispered. "I just have a… oh, never mind." He sat down on the bed next to his former enemy, and did something he'd never imagined himself doing – he gave Draco Malfoy a friendly pat on the shoulder.

"What are you _after_?"

"Look." Ron swallowed hard, both his pride and his saliva. "I've… My brother George, he suffered from panic attacks. I know one when I see one." He turned his hands over and over in his lap, trying to form the words without making a fool out of himself. "Can I… Can I get you a glass of water?"

Silence followed his words, even Draco's hyperventilating taking a break.

"I'm fine. You can go. You don't want to be here with me anyway." His voice was less shaky now, allowing the vocal chords to reveal their usual tone.

"I'm sorry for the way I've acted", Ron blurted out. "I truly am. I'm far too good at holding grudges."

"And for what idiotic reason would you possibly decide to let them go? I am no good man, Ron Weasley."

"Maybe not", the red-haired man admitted. "But I am starting to realise, that maybe you too are a human."

With those words, he left the bedroom.

xxxxx

Three cartoon boxes of various belongings of hers, all smelling distinctively of smoke, was all Ginny Weasley had left from the apartment she'd purchased only weeks ago.

She remembered July, when her biggest problem had been whether her and Harry's vacation trip would be spent in Rome or Barcelona. It all felt like a joke now, going through what was left after someone had set her apartment on fire. Her life just couldn't get any messier now, could it? She let out a deep sigh of frustration as she leaned back towards the wall in a sparsely decorated room at the muggle police station.

 _Bzz. Bzz. Bzz._

She reached for her two-way mirror with a warm feeling in her heart – Draco? But no, the face she met wasn't Draco's. It was Luna's, which surprised her.

"Hi, Luna. What do you want?"

"Hello." Her voice was back to its usual melodic tone, and her face expression was neutral. Ginny took that as a good sign. "I heard about the fire."

"Who told you?"

"The Daily Prophet." Luna gave her a faint smile. "I saw it in a shop window during my walk this morning. Are you sure it wasn't a catahera who started the fire?"

"A what?"

"A catahera. It's a crossbreed between a cat and a chimaera. Very easily irritated, very cruel and vindictive, often sets fire to things when upset. I've been researching it…"

"I'm quite sure it wasn't a catahera." _Although it does sound pretty much like Astoria,_ she thought to herself.

"Well, anyways, I'm really sorry for you. I would invite you to come stay at my apartment for a while, but it just doesn't fit three."

"You know I didn't leave Draco", Ginny noted.

"I had a feeling."

"Luna, I'm really sorry, but I just can't bring myself to… You don't know the whole story." Ginny absentmindedly twirled a strand of auburn hair round her index finger.

"You're right, Ginny." Luna sighed. "I don't know the whole story, and I acted like a terrible friend last time. I'm really sorry about that. I suspect the nargles might've been involved, I just found a possible nest under my bed…"

Ginny knew it wasn't very polite of her to laugh, but she couldn't help it. Luna's interest and dedication in her research was truly impressive, but it was impossible for her not to have a laugh at it every once a while.

"If you want to, we could schedule a coffee date and talk it out tomorrow", she proposed.

"I don't drink coffee. I heard it can break down your brain", stated Luna sincerely.

"Tea. And raspberry crumble. With custard. At that café you love."

"It's a date, my friend. I'll be in touch." One last contagious smile, and Ginny found herself facing her own reflection again.

Her life might be one humungous mess for the moment, but to have Luna as a friend would always be a blessing.

xxxxx

If there was something Ginny Weasley had always loathed, it was being held up late at work. She enjoyed her job at The Daily Prophet a great deal, loved to let her creative spirit free while still working with Quidditch. But when the clock struck ten p.m. and she was still caught in the crowd of an unfinished game… Oh, how she wished she could've just gotten up and left. It was hard not to let your enervation influence the article when you'd watched the same mediocre players fly round the stadium for three hours straight.

Two months ago, at the time she still lived with Harry, she wouldn't necessarily have cared that much about being late home.

But with Draco, it was something else entirely.

"Sorry for being late", Ginny excused herself as she slipped into the guest room. "Got held up at work. Slow quidditch game, and they weren't even _good_ …" She was on the verge of bursting out into a dramatic commentary session when she realised she was talking to herself. Draco lay half naked on top of the covers, looking as if he'd fallen asleep halfway through the process of undressing. His arms and legs were spread out like the base of a spider web, his face turned towards the wall and his mouth opened into the smallest 'o'.

He looked adorable, and all of her buried irritation from the game melted away like it'd never been there in the first place.

She lay down next to him, in the little area of leftover bed that barely existed. Draco moved instinctively as she neared him, mumbling something inaudible.

"It's okay. It's just me."

"Mm-hmm." He shuffled closer to the wall, switching to a crouched position that made his spine and shoulder blades protrude clearly through his pale skin. She felt a sting in her heart as she saw his fragile body, thinking about all the problems they had yet to deal with.

She'd read the pamphlet about mental illnesses from St. Mungo's over and over again, searched for more information on her own during her period of forced bed rest, realised how conspicuously little she knew about it and went on to curse the Wizarding Community for stigmatizing certain subjects so hard. Yet she still couldn't bring herself to ask why. Why new scars on his forearms appeared, and why she still felt a faint smell of vomit in his breath every now and then.

She loved him. Undeniably, prominently and whole-heartedly.

But was it enough, and would she ever be able to save him?

-  
Thank you, readers and reviewers! I just wanted to remind you that you keep me going and that I love you all dearly, even if I'm a bit slow on updating. Life just gets in the way!

If there's something special that you want more or less of, please tell me. Constructive criticism is always appreciated!


	15. Chapter 14-Siblings

**Chapter 14; Siblings**

"I'm still not entirely sure I approve of this, Ginevra Weasley." Molly Weasley had her arms crossed, her most strict face on, and was currently making Ginny feel very, very inferior.

"I got that."

"You do understand how much this hurts Harry? You understand what you're doing to him? What you're doing to all of us?"

"Are you my mother or Harry's mother?" Ginny asked, trying to stay somewhat polite.

"Mum, calm down. People change." Bill Weasley, older brother and saviour of Ginny when it came to heated family arguments, entered the unusually messy kitchen. "Perhaps we could trust Gin's judgement enough to believe she wouldn't have fallen for the man without reason? Just a suggestion." He poked Errol, the half-dead and half-alive owl who'd collapsed in a feathery pile on the kitchen counter, in the ribs.

"I know you're still judging him because he's a Malfoy, but mum, Draco is not a bad guy anymore. Please, take my word for that." The Weasley daughter gave her mother a pleading look.

"His _father_ still is, that's for sure… Left his sick wife… just saying…"

"Draco is one of the best guys I've ever met and I'm not going to quit seeing him regardless of your opinion, so you might as well accept it." She took a sip of the Earl Grey she was drinking. _Don't shout,_ she thought to herself. _Don't shout._ "I'm 21. I've been considered an adult for four years, and none of you have a say in who I date."

Molly opened her mouth as if to say something, but closed it just as fast and went on to knead a bread dough by hand.

"Seeing as Ginny and Draco have been sharing a room in Ron and Hermione's apartment without any reported murders, wizarding duels or serious accidents, I can't really see the problem." Bill offered his creator a smile and gave his sister a friendly pat on the shoulder.

"Fine. Fine. He's welcome for dinner tomorrow." Ginny and Bill exchanged a high five. "On one condition. You and he…You and Draco are responsible of installing the babies' cribs in George and Angie's apartment."

And that was the backstory to why Draco now found himself lying on the floor with an unreadable instruction in front of him and a screwdriver in his mouth. Just an ordinary Saturday, by other words.

Angelina were forcing them to do the work by hand, claiming that magically installed cribs were unreliable and _she was not having her children sleep in those._ Although all of them were unable to understand her decision, the Weasley family had decided not to discuss the subject further with the hormonal mother. So here they were, trying to decode the instruction book from a muggle company called IKEA, none of them really succeeding.

"I'm really doubting whether my skills on this subject are more trustworthy than the magic way", Charlie mumbled with irritation as he, for the eight time, watched his uneven changing table collapse. "Have any of us actually managed to build something yet?"

"I have!" Ron shouted from the other end of the living room. "This… rocking… elk." He gave it an unsure poke. "Although I'm not sure why anyone would want to traumatize their children with this."

"I get that babies are born whenever they want to and things like that, but I still think it's a bit unfair that _we_ are the ones responsible for this." Percy was still busy reading the manual. "Do you think Angelina would mind if we just… cheated a little bit?"

"Don't you dare." A belated _swoosh_ from apparition was heard as George joined his siblings. "I'll be the one who has to explain it to her, and I just don't have the energy."

The hysteria was immediate.

"George!"

"Here comes the baby daddy!"

"How are they?"

"What are they called?"

"How are Angie and the twins?"

"If everybody could please calm down and give me an actual chance to catch my breath, that'd be great." George looked completely drained out, dark shadows under his eyes and uneven stubble on his chin, but there was still a playful smile on his lips as he sat down on the coffin serving as coffee table. "They're fine. They're…" He was on the verge of crying, struggling to keep a straight face. "They're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. I just wish Fred would've been here." His tears defeated him at that sentence, and he finally surrendered to them.

"I know, George. I know." Ginny was the first one to embrace him, and Draco watched with a warmth in his chest as he saw the two siblings find comfort in each other's presence.

He could not ignore the pain of jealousy that sprung in him.

xxxxx

Draco Malfoy was an only child.

When he was 3 years old, he asked his mother whether he could possibly get a sibling to play with during the days. His friend Theodore had an older brother, and from what Theo told him, it seemed to be the best thing in the world.

Narcissa didn't answer the question, only smiled at him and asked him to go play in the garden.

When he was 4 years old, he repeated the question. He got the exact same reaction and still no answer.

When he was 5 years old, he asked his father the same question. A mistake he regretted for a long, long week, as the bruises on his twiglike body went from purple to blue to yellow.

He never dared repeat the question. Draco was an only child, and it seemed like his life would stay that way.

It happened sometimes that he was given paper and crayons by one of the Manor's servants, asked to paint something nice for his mommy, or if she was coming to dinner, his auntie Bellatrix.

He would always draw himself, a stick figure with some blonde hair on top of his head, standing in the grass on a sunny day. He would draw the sun as a quarter of a yellow ball in the corner, sketch wildly with blue crayon for the sky and with green for the grass. Sometimes he added flowers.

Then he would sketch a smaller stick figure with blonde hair next to him. Another one, and another. Some with long hair, some with short.

And before he went to sleep at night, he would close his hands like he was about to pray, and wish for what he'd drawn to come true.

It never did.

Eventually Draco grew too old for drawings, grew too old for uttering his wishes through crayons and drawing paper.

But his eyes still filled with longing whenever he saw an older brother pushing his sister on the swing-set near Malfoy Manor, and he still had to keep himself from asking if he could follow them home.

Perhaps it was silly, foolish and pointless.

But perhaps he was just desperate for _someone_ to keep him company during the never-ending days in the scariest place in the world.

xxxxxx

"Draco?"

"Huh?" He was pulled back from his daydreams by the soft voice of Bob, his therapist.

"You spaced out. Thinking about something in particular? Something you'd like to talk about?"

"Not really."

"Look, Draco." Bob put a hand on Draco's thigh, and he flinched. It was too intimate a move for him to feel comfortable. "This room is a safe place. You can tell me whatever you want, and I will never judge you. I will never do anything but listen and try to get you the right help. Do you feel like these sessions have helped you so far?"

"I don't know. I mean, I think so." He felt pathetic, just sitting here, but every word in the English language just seemed inadequate for what he wanted to say.

 _I'm not okay. I will never be okay. I will always be this stupid, miserable and worthless freak who's not worthy of love, not worthy of anything. I will always be scarred from my childhood, and I feel like that's my fault. I still drink, I still cut, and I still make myself vomit whenever I feel too numb or too anxious to cope._

 _I love Ginny with all of my broken heart and all of my being, but I will never, ever be enough for her. She deserves someone whole and I'm nothing but broken._

 _My job fired me. I was never present anyways, so it didn't exactly come as a surprise, but it still hurt._

 _I need a divorce from my wife, who's actually and completely insane, but I'm too afraid to get it because the Wizarding Society is exaggeratedly judgemental when it comes to those things and it would be all over the news. I would be seen as the guilty one and people would despise me._

 _My wife is locked up in a muggle facility and I still dream nightmares about her. She wrote me a letter, and reading it gave me a panic attack._

 _I am a mess, a giant psycho mess, I will never have a decent life and someone has to make me stop dream about it because I will never achieve it._

 _Never._

 _Ever._

 _Achieve it._

 _I despise being broken, and yet it's the only reality I know of._

The window to his left displayed a melancholically silvered sky, fairly common for a British November day. He was too high up to see the faces of London citizens as they moved on the streets outside, making them a faceless blur of hats, beanies, jackets and coats.

Bob was silent, waiting for Draco to speak. He would have to wait forever.

Because even if Draco wanted to speak, the words always came to a halt somewhere in his throat, never actually finishing their course.

xxxxx

There's nothing in this world as innocent as a new-born baby. Except maybe two of them - That's twice the innocence.

George had never felt as thankful for the magical health-care of St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries as he'd felt this week. His and Angelina's children, their son and their daughter, had been born 10 weeks premature, and yet they were fine. Thanks to professional care and magical assistance, they were in some miracular way, just fine. A little smaller, but perfectly healthy aside from that.

He'd been so certain he would lose them both. Lose them like he'd lost Fred. Lose them in the blink of an eye, unable to save them, unable to bring them back.

But he hadn't.

Angelina was fast asleep in their hospital suite, lost in a sleep well deserved. Sleep had been a scarce commodity for both parents this week, but George didn't mind the opportunity to spend some time alone with his children. The pride in his chest when he pushed the see-through plastic cribs through the maternity ward's corridors was indescribable, and he cherished every moment of it.

His son tossed and turned in his crib just a little, making some of the cutest noises he'd ever heard, while his sister slept silently. He stroke a finger over his son's cheek in an attempt to calm him down.

He'd reached the visiting rooms. He was alone there for the moment, but he was also aware that it wouldn't last long. He adjusted his son's blanket as he waited, making sure he didn't get too cold. The boy had had problems with too low body-temperature throughout the week, while his sister had had more trouble with her breathing. She was the calmer one so far, while the boy made a lot more noise.

He felt like he knew everything about them, while he at the same time knew nothing at all. They were new to the world, new and valuable assets to their society. He loved them more than he'd ever loved someone before.

"Hi." Ginny kept her voice low as she entered the visiting room, taking a seat on the green sofa beside him.

"Hi, sis. How was the Sunday dinner without me? Did you all manage?"

"It was a bit of a challenge, but we handled it okay."

"I'm glad." His son was fast asleep once again, and it was his daughter's turn to wake attention by small, small, whimpers. George was careful as he took her in his arms, holding her close to his chest and rocking her slightly. She fell asleep again in no time.

"She's so small it's almost scary", Ginny whispered. "But she's beautiful."

"I thought I had seen beautiful, and then I became a parent." George smiled. "These two… Merlin."

They were silent for a moment, the kind of silence without pressure, the kind you could stay in forever. They didn't mouth their thoughts, yet they knew that they thought the exact same thing.

"Fred would've been so proud, George."

"I know." He wiped his tears quickly, before they fell down on his daughter. "I know he would've been." The boy was making noise again, demanding attention.

"I can take him", offered Ginny. "I've held babies before." George nodded in approval, and she picked the boy up more carefully than he'd ever seen her handle anything before. Careful wasn't necessarily the first word that came to mind when he thought of his little sister, but she was loving, always loving, and it compensated her recklessness without fault.

"He looks like Fred."

"You think so? Not like me, then?" He was teasing her.

"No, he definitely looks like Fred. Have you thought about names yet?"

"We haven't really had the time", George admitted. "Suggestions?"

"You should name him after Fred. Let's face it, he would've been mad if you didn't." The boy – Fred? – had his little fist closed round Ginny's index finger. Adorable was the only word for it.

"You're probably right."

"I'm always right."

"So what's your suggestion for his sister?" George nodded towards the baby asleep in his own arms. "Freddielina?"

"You want a sincere suggestion that I actually like or something random?"

"Your choice."

"Okay." She coughed as if to state the importance of what she was about to say. "A sincere suggestion – Roxanne. It means _dawn_. Stumbled across it in a book I read, and I really like it. You could get really deep with it, too; a dawn is something bright after the dark night, you know what I mean? _Or_ , you could just name her Ginny."

"We'll think about it."

xxxxx

The night was unnaturally dark outside London's forensic psychiatry facility this night.

The fact that it was dark wasn't the issue – November nights are seldom very bright, but this darkness seemed to be something else entirely, more like a compact mass than anything else. People staggered through it, stumbled and fell, and they were more relieved to come inside than they'd ever been.

If they made it, that was.

The darkness was however to Astoria Malfoy's advantage. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that the cause behind it was Peruvian Instant Darkness Power, delivered from Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. 30 big boxes of it, all ordered by her good friend Blaise Zabini.

She would reward him greatly for that favour later, but only if he fulfilled their agreement. She was waiting.

This was the night she would be getting out. After a lengthy and passive week, Blaise would finally help her reclaim her freedom. Her heart bolted in her chest, and it bolted even harder when she heard the longed-for knock on her window.

"Move away", Blaise wheezed, and she did as he said. A small bang was heard as the window exploded, magically deafened to avoid attention. Astoria jumped over the glass splinters, careful not to get one in her foot, grabbed the replacement wand Blaise was holding, and watched him as he climbed down the facade with skilful movements. She waited until he'd reached the ground, then she cast one last glance at her no-longer-prison and swung her body over the window-ledge.

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 _I loved writing this chapter. Feel free trying to find my favourite quote, there may be one (or two) that I really like in this one._

 _I love to hear your opinions and thoughts about this story, so please share them if you want to! Something you want more of? Less of?_

 _I know this story might not be the most popular one here on , and I don't expect it to be either, but I want you to know that you readers and favouriters mean the world to me no matter how many or few you are._


	16. Chapter 15-Normal is boring

_Once again, I apologise for my slow writing pace, haha. We all work differently and I do my best. THANK YOU for the reviews, schleifchen, MissesE and ImaHPFan. I love you all more than I can express in words._

Chapter 15; Normal is boring

November passed, and December took its place, replacing the rain with the lightest powder of snow. It grew colder, and Ginny shivered violently the second she placed a foot outside the door, but at least the snow brought some light to the painfully short days.

An apartment had been found. A certain man had been persuaded to move in there when it was time. Divorce papers had been provided with a little assistance from Hermione and her contacts at the Ministry, but they lay still untouched in a bookshelf, due to Draco's panic every time someone even mentioned them.

No more fiery visits from Astoria. No more visits at all, actually. Only letters, pointless and sometimes even nonsensical letters, that still brought panic attacks and nightmares with them.

Therapy sessions continued, the progress slow but at least existing.

And every now and then, there were good moments. Ginny lived for them, and she knew that Draco did as well.

There were evenings in front of the fireplace with Ron and Hermione, the four of them playing Explosive Snap and drinking steaming hot chocolate from flower-patterned cups. There were discussions in bed a late evening or early morning, discussions about the Wizarding Society or books they've both read, about quidditch or their Hogwarts teachers, about unsolved matters from their school years or whichice cream sort from Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour _truly_ was the best. There were moments of comfortable, undemanding silence, and there was warm bodies sleeping next to each other, neither of them brave enough to be the one to take it to the next step.

And every now and then there were kisses. Sometimes small, almost imperceptible. Sometimes longer ones, burning with passion as soft lips moved together and morphed into one.

Those were the moments she cherished.

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Luna was ten minutes late to their scheduled coffee date at Espresso Patronum, a newly opened and indubitably popular café at Diagon Alley. Punctuality wasn't really her biggest skill, but the smile she offered Ginny at arriving weighed up for her belatedness.

"You're lucky I got here first." Ginny gestured to the armchair across from her. "This place sure is crowded."

"I noticed." Luna sat down, grabbing the cinnamon roll her friend had ordered for her. Perks of a long-term friendship; you always know what your friend wants without even having to ask. "Thank you for saving me a seat. Please excuse me for being late – I had an important discussion about crumple-horned snorkacks with Rolf. You know, I still can't believe why he's doubting their existence…"

"He'll come round to it." Ginny tried her best to keep her face expression neutral. She'd lost this argument ages ago. The Luna effect, Harry had called it. You find yourself believing in the oddest of things, but you gain a surprisingly big amount of optimism and life positivity in the process.

"I really do hope so, seeing as we're going to live together", Luna said in her always so dreamy voice. "I hope Milo won't mind. He's a Hufflepuff, you see."

"Milo? The carpet-hawk?"

"Rolf."

"Oh. That makes sense."  
"And Milo is a raven, for the record. _Raven_ claw." The blonde rolled her eyes and followed with a question to the redhead. "How are things with you and Draco? When am I invited to come stay at your apartment?"

"That would be when we're done moving in, a process we haven't even started." The redhead sighed deeply and took a comforting bite of her chocolate cake. "And I'm almost afraid to. We really need to stop invading Ron and Hermione's apartment… but I just don't know."

"What is it that you don't know?"

"What it means. You know, living together." The words spilled out of her, like a river no longer held back by a dam. "I need somewhere to live, he needs somewhere to live, I've purchased a 2-room apartment and I've convinced him to come live with me there. But what does it _mean_? What will people _think_? We're not really the mainstream, predictable couple. If we're even that."

"I think", Luna said after a moment of thought. "That you've never truly cared what other people think. So why start now?"

"Sometimes I wonder where I would be without you, Luna." Ginny offered her best friend a warm-hearted and honest smile, but the smile she got back was bright enough to light up the whole world in that precise moment.

"Oh, you would be just fine. You have it all in you. I'm just here to give you a reminder every now and then."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx 

Ginny had moved into apartments three times in her life. Two times with company, once alone.  
As she for the fifth time tried to instruct Draco on how she wanted her – their? – bookshelf organized, almost making him break down and cry, she came to the conclusion that she preferred to do the work by herself and ordered Draco, Ron and Hermione out from the living room, giving her full control over the bookshelf's organization. If there was anything in this world she _hated_ to let someone else touch, it was her bookshelf.

Most of the books were new, bought during long trips in the bookshops of both Diagon Alley and muggle London with the financial compensation she'd been paid due to the fire. Most of them were books she'd already read and had in her bookshelf before, some of them were new to her and picked by Draco. But they all smelled like new books, the heavenly smell of fresh paper and ink, and she took deep breaths to really savour their fragrance. They all smelled of a smell she'd adored since she was eleven and compared her second-hand and worn down books with her friends' new ones. Second-hand books smelled of both love and annoyance, but they also smelled of another person's thoughts and opinions about it. New books smelled of potential, of a desire to be loved and devoured.

It's odd, how just a scent can calm you down and make all your irritability melt away in seconds.

"You okay?" A careful, melodically soft voice had sneaked up on her from behind.

"I am." She couldn't help but smile as a pair of soft lips kissed her neck, and her favourite arms in the entire world was placed round her waist. "My sincerest apologies for my breakdown before. I didn't mean to shout at you. This moving process just stresses me out."

"Well, you don't _have_ to organize your bookshelf the first day. I believe most people wait a few days with that and take the more important things first."

"Are you trying to say that _my bookshelf isn't important_?"

"Not at all", Draco's voice reassured her. "I believe it to be of the highest importance, and that's why I recommend you to save its organization until we've got some of the other things in order, so that you can be fully present in the work."

There was a quiet moment before they both burst out into laughter.

"Since _when_ … did you learn to… talk all philosophical?" was the only thing Ginny got out between hysterical fits of laughter.

"Believe me, I felt horribly pretentious. Not doing that imitation again anytime soon." Draco shook his head, letting out the sweetest chuckle.

"Trust me, you were _really_ believable. I almost thought I was talking to Percy during his Hogwarts years." She shuddered.

"Percy is the former minister assistant, right?"

"Correct."

"You seriously need to paint me a family tree of your siblings, seeing how terrible I am with names."

"Oh, but you're making great progress." She turned around to give him a quick kiss on the cheek, but a huge yawn interrupted her before she managed to go through with the action. "What time is it?"

"Last time I checked, five minutes past 1 A.M. Ron and Hermione left."

"Merlin's most baggy Y-fronts", Ginny used a quite useful quote she'd learned from Ron before she could help it. "We don't even have a bed."  
"You know, that's kind of what I was talking about when I mentioned to take the most important things first…"

Roughly ten minutes later, as Ginny Weasley crawled down in a brand new king-size bed, mindlessly tangling her legs and arms into Draco's, she was very thankful for her magical abilities.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Astoria?"

"Yes, Blaise?"

"She's half past 1 a.m. Can we go to bed? Like, soon?"

"Go to bed?" A mop of golden hair, cut short in a pixie-cut during a drunken moment of confusion, bounced up from beneath the billiard table in Blaise's untidy basement. "You trying to hit on me once again, charm boy? Because you need better pick-up lines than that if you wish to accomplish something."

"Astoria." Blaise chuckled. "I would love to relive last night for all of my life, but I'm seriously _so_ worn out for the moment."

"Sleep. Oh. Yes." A smile danced on her lips, and he thought for a moment that she would give in to him and follow him upstairs. But the smile was gone just as quickly as it had appeared. "No. We have important matters to discuss."

"No possibility to discuss them tomorrow, then?" His eyelids were getting heavier by the second.

"Oh, I can't risk forgetting these ideas, you see."

Blaise hopelessly wished for Astoria to be just a _little_ less attractive. Because every time those maroon-coloured and full lips spread across her lower face, he had to throw the nearest pillow over his crotch to avoid being teased for hours. Astoria was the boss, always the one in charge. He was merely an assistant, or perhaps a toy, in everything from intercourse to helping her flee from forensic psychiatry.

"I'm sorry, As, but _how_ important are these plans? A wizarding duel isn't _that_ hard."

"If you don't enjoy working for me, you know I'm very well able to find a replacer. A less opinionated one, too." Her voice was harsher now, and she was standing up – both facts improving her sex appeal dramatically.

"Absolutely not! Never! It's not needed." He tried his best to defend himself. Astoria's harsh face melted into another smile as she bent down, and begun to kiss his bare ribcage and toned six-pack. In no time, Blaine's exhaustion was gone with the wind.

She was the boss, after all.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It had been a very long time since Draco Malfoy last dined in a restaurant.

He'd been almost obsessed with it one or two years back, during the time he had a stable relationship and still went to work. Seeing to the fact that he grew up with a professional cooker and later was fed all his meals by Hogwarts house elves, it was to little surprise he never really bothered to learn how to cook. And since Astoria shared his abstemious interest for cooking, restaurant dinners or take-out became their daily dinner routine.

Draco always preferred the restaurants. Especially the fancier ones with marble white table cloths, leather-bound menus that felt heavy in your hand and waiters in black and white suits. He loved how special it made him feel to sit there, in a muggle restaurant where nobody recognized you, and yet everyone respected you. Everything that mattered to him and to the outside world was that he had money, a good-looking wife and big enough a culinary interest to dine at the finest restaurants.

And the best thing with being a wizard in an expensive muggle restaurant – it's just to whisper _Confundus_ when the waiter brings the tab, and you never even have to pay.

But then the darker days arrived, and the restaurant dinners ceased to happen. Before he knew it, he'd gone a year without dining in one.

Well, until tonight, that was.

"I'm taking you out to dinner tonight", he had declared to Ginny as they ate breakfast earlier that morning, honey on toast together with lemon tea. Neither of them had done a real grocery trip yet, and neither of them had installed the kitchen table, so the breakfast was ingested on the living room floor until further actions proceeded.

"Is that a date?" She had raised her eyebrows, clearly surprised.

"I just thought it would be nice." _Also because Bob gave me the assignment to do something I haven't done in a long time for this week's homework,_ he'd thought, but he hadn't said the last part out loud.

"Okay", she'd said, shrugging her shoulders. "I'm in. Why not?"

And so it happened, that Draco dressed up in the nicest clothes he'd worn for a long time – a white shirt with thin, vertical stripes of silver, and a clean, whole pair of jeans. No mirror hung on the wall yet, but the mirror-reflection spell he used showed a somewhat cleaner, healthier and happier version of himself than the last time he'd looked in a mirror. Perhaps was it only his imagination, but as he unbuttoned the two highest buttons on his shirt and folded both ends to the side, ruffled his blonde hair just a little and splashed water on his face, he actually felt pretty handsome.

His good looks for the night was nothing compared to Ginny's, though. He realised that the second he saw her sprinting through the snow to the Italian restaurant they'd decided to go to, one of Draco's former favourites. She was wearing a charcoal, v-cut party dress made of a leather-like material, paired with black nylons and a pair of heels, probably magically enchanted to hold off the snow. Her outfit reminded him of that night in Diagon Alley, and he found himself thinking about how much things change.

"Sorry I'm late." She smiled apologetically, and gave him a kiss that made his whole body tingle with euphoria.

"It was no bother", he whispered back.

"Table for two, please." Draco tried to keep his head high and a smile on his face despite the fear that was bubbling inside of him. It had been such a long time since he'd done this, eaten in a fancy restaurant where you paid after and not before your meal, to consume food in a place that wasn't a bar. What if he did something wrong? What if he forgot to pay or spilled expensive wine all over the table? What if the personnel laughed at him?

Ginny squeezed his hand, as if she could read his thoughts. He met her eyes, her ever so calming eyes, and tried his best to believe the reassuring look she gave him.

"Of course." The waiter, a friendly-looking man who must've been at least eight inches shorter than Draco, offered them a polite smile and pointed his left hand to a table near the window. "Please, sit down."

It wasn't until Draco had read the entire menu back and forth three times that he realised his vision was blurry of happy tears.

"Draco?" Ginny was whispering, a concerned look on her face. "Why are you crying? Do you want to go?"

"I'm happy", he responded. "I feel… I feel so normal."

"Oh, but you're not normal." She lifted his hand to her lips. "You're far from normal. You're my unpredictable boyfriend who surprises me every day, and that's why I love you."

"Boyfriend?"

"What, do you mind?"

"Not at all. I like it, my... crap, I can't even figure out a word good enough. " He laughed. "My wonderful girlfriend."

"Flawless, amazing, awesome, fabulous, stunning, fantastic…"

He interrupted her with a kiss so passionate it made the waitress behind them blush vigorously.


	17. Chapter 16-Memories

_CW; mentions of rape_

 **Chapter 16; Memories**

Ginny Weasley never actually told anyone the actual reason behind her quitting quidditch. But then again, no one ever really asked.

She'd told them all that The Daily Prophet gave her a job offer she just couldn't deny. That she wanted to try something else for a while.

The Daily Prophet had indeed offered her a job, one she'd actually grown to like quite a lot as time passed, but the rest was all lies.

To be a famous quidditch player had been her one and only dream since the first time she ever sat on a broomstick. Flying up there, accelerating and diving and veering, being one with the broom, focusing all of her conscience on the game – it had got to be the greatest feeling ever known to mankind. She had loved it. She had loved it so much she sometimes sobbed a little in the shower after a game. Not happy tears because they'd won or tears of grief because they'd lost, simply tears that made their way down her flushed cheeks due to the game being over when her only wish was to make it last forever.

Then came a day, or perhaps evening was a better word, that changed it all and turned her life around in a way she'd never thought possible.

 **~a year ago~**

Even though it was December, the temperature icy cold and the amount of rain excessive, quidditch practices still happened three times a week without fault. Magic had its undeniable perks after all, and the air of the Holyhead Harpies arena simply changed temperature after what its players needed. The 14th of December may have brought a hurricane gruesome enough to keep the majority of London's population indoors, but the fourteen brave-hearted players and reserve players of Britain's most successful Women's Quidditch Team had all conscientiously dragged their asses to the arena in Guildford, knowing that the moment practice begun, they would no longer be freezing. They were onto their last week of practice before their Christmas break begun, preparing themselves for one last match against the Appleby Arrows this Sunday. The atmosphere of the changing room was cheerful with the young women laughing and talking about how they would spend the oncoming holidays, and the cheerfulness nearly lasted throughout the whole two hours the Holyhead Harpies practiced every Friday evening. It wasn't until the last five minutes, when team captain Mathilda Bates made all the girls do twenty burpees 'just because', that part of it melted away.

Ginny Weasley was happy when she finished practice the 14th of December. She was exhausted and dripping with sweat and every single muscle in her body seemed to ache, but it was a pleasant sort of exhaustion. She laughed and gossiped with her team-mates in the showers, continuing to discuss the best methods to slaughter Appleby Arrows in two days' time. When her stomach rumbled, she remembered the lovely fact that Harry was at home cooking a Friday dinner for them both, and it made her hurry through the process of getting dressed, brushing her hair, and putting on an easy makeup – it was Friday after all, wasn't it?

You weren't able to apparate directly from any English quidditch arena, due to there being some incidents of cheating throughout the history of quidditch. It tends to interrupt the game when one of the seekers apparates away due to nerves, and therefore it had been forbidden a few years ago. Since Apparition Prohibition spells tend to be pretty unreliable in terms of where they begin and end, Ginny always had to walk for a bit before she was able to apparate safely. Down the hill, into the woods, and when she'd walked about three fourths of the woods, she'd be able to apparate. It wasn't a very long walk, and she was usually accompanied by some of her team-mates. She'd walked the distance countless times before, never stumbling into any trouble, never until this day.

Because the 14th of December was the day Ginny Weasley met her rapist.

 **~end of flashback~**

Afterwards, she could remember every single detail about his abhorrent breath and how she was completely unable to move, the offensive comments he'd whispered into her ear and how ugly his beard-growth was, but she could not for a second remember how it all had happened. She couldn't for a second recall how it began, or how it finally ended. She was clueless about how long it had lasted, she only knew that it felt like the longest time in the world.

If there's one thing about a trauma that is and will always be for sure, it is that we all deal with it very differently. As Ginny Weasley staggered away on unsteady legs from behind the arena, she knew that her life had been ruined forever, turned around and shattered into a million shards, and she knew that she could never again set her foot in this neighbourhood. Returning to this place would allow her to remember, and her only goal was to forget.

So Ginny Weasley went home that night, put on her most trustworthy fake smile, and played a terrific game of pretending that everything was fine and dandy. The moment Harry left for Auror Training the next morning, she locked herself into the bathroom. She spent hours crying and screaming and throwing things, crying until she was sure she would faint and screaming until her voice was so hoarse she no longer recognized it. Then she swore to herself to never cry about it again. And the easiest method to be able to do that was to forget.

It was a coward's way out, so terribly unlike her, and yet it became the one she chose. The alternative was worse. If she started telling people, her whole world would shatter all over again.

First of all, she knew it would destroy Harry. He would find a way to blame himself, for not being there to pick her up, for all the things he thought he could've changed. He would look at her like she was something fragile, breakable, like she would pulverize at the bare touch.

Her brothers would search through the whole of Great Britain to find her abuser and beat him up. Her friends would always look at her differently. If she started telling people, the press would know about it in the blink of an eye, and no one would ever look at her the same way. Sexual abuse was yet another example of the Wizarding Community's fear of change – they've never discussed it before, so why start now? Much easier to create a taboo and refuse to talk about it.

Ginny had never used memory-altering magic before, but it turned out to be quite simple. She just wanted to forget. And yet, for some unexplainable reason she could no longer remember, she saved it as a reminder to herself.

What they don't tell you about altering your memories is that part of the memories always stay, no matter what you do. You don't forget you have it.

But it'd still been one whirlwind of a year without fully remembering, one year of blissful ignorance.

But it had also been one year of painful throwbacks and déja vu-s every now and then, and most of all it'd been one year of letting it control her. She'd quit her professional quidditch career in fear of remembering, almost destroyed her sex life in fear of remembering.

She never truly forgot, but she could avoid remembering too much.

Her new apartment lacked a window seat, but the living room windowsills were wide enough for it not to matter. The view from the fourth floor would probably be marvellous during spring and summer, but in the middle of December, it wasn't much to brag about. She saw only the skeleton of a bare sycamore tree outside, except the lights from other apartment buildings further away. The ground was a dark blur of wet leaves and worn out grass, almost depressing to look at. Snow had arrived and then left again, leaving people clueless about when and if it would return.

No, the view outside didn't cheer her up much, but the one of her apartment did. It wasn't very tidy, with unpacked boxes and random furniture still making sure their floor area was limited, but it was finally starting to feel like home. Draco's belongings were spread out across the living room, shirts and books and sketchpads she was dying to take a look at. Her own quidditch magazines, clothes and various papers weren't too neatly organized either, but she didn't see it as a problem. The mess reminded her that it all was for real, that they were living here, that it wasn't just something she'd dreamed. The door to their bedroom stood open, and if she stayed quiet she could hear Draco breathing. He was sleeping soundly in the bed they shared, and she wanted nothing but to do the same. She just wasn't finished thinking yet.

Even without fully remembering, she'd let it control her for one year. One year was enough. Seeing that memory a second time was enough. She had to remember. A quote she'd once read in a muggle magazine popped into her head – _You can't change the past, but you can control your future._

She wanted to play quidditch again. She had to play quidditch again.

And perhaps, she realised as she weighed the crystal bottle containing the light blue slimy mass of a memory, perhaps she would have to talk to someone. Perhaps she needed some assistance in her way to moving on.

The Holyhead Harpies arena looked exactly the way she remembered it, as if no time at all had passed since she'd left the building that Friday night a year ago. As she manoeuvred the office part of the building, Ginny found that she still knew her way to the team captain's office perfectly well. She was lucky, too. The door to Mathilda Bates' neat office stood open, and Mathilda looked up from her desk before Ginny even had time to say Hi.

"Ginny! What are you doing here? Please, come in, I've missed you!" Mathilda's eyes, two azure pearls of pure cheerfulness, lit up as she gestured to the plastic chair across from her desk. Ginny couldn't help but smile as she slid down into the chair, feeling like home.

"I'd like to try out for the position as Chaser."

"Oh, forget it." Mathilda laughed. "Congratulations. It's yours. We've been waiting for you for almost a year."

"I'll explain it to you later."

"Oh, forget it." The captain shook her head. "Seriously, Ginny. We've all missed you so badly I'm not even asking for an explanation anymore, as long as you promise you're back."

"I promise, coach."

Only two days later, as Ginny Weasley steered her broomstick upwards only to make a sharp dive and snatch the quaffle from one of her opponents, moving on to score a perfect goal through the middle hoop, when she heard the dedicated cheers of the audience, she knew that she'd made the right choice. This was her destiny, this was what she was born to do, and she was finally in her right place again.

"Wow", Draco said as Ginny joined him after the game. "You are indeed an amazingly talented quidditch player. You did great."

"You're just saying that because it's part of your job description as my boyfriend." She pinched his arm playfully.

"And you're only saying that because you're so terrible at giving out compliments yourself."  
"I'm not!"

"Then stop contradicting me!" He chuckled.

"Okay. Really – was I any good? I felt rusty, and I'm pretty sure I'm going to be sore in every single muscle I own tomorrow."

"Ginny, please believe me when I say that you were brilliant. For moments at a time, I almost forgot I was watching my girlfriend and just saw the most skilled chaser I've seen for eternities play the best quidditch game I've seen in ages."

"Thank you", she whispered, too modest to talk louder. "It felt really good."

"I bet." Draco smiled, and even though it was dark in the woods they were walking through, she was very well able to make out the contours of her favourite smile in the world. "Why did you ever stop? You seem so comfortable at the quidditch pitch, it's hard to imagine you doing anything else."

"I'll tell you someday."


	18. Chapter 17-Abstinence

**Chapter 17; Abstinence and Vindictiveness**

Couples fight. It is a widely known fact.

It's not supernatural or unusual in any kind of way, rather the opposite – it's a natural and unavoidable part of a relationship. And yet, when it's your first time, your first time for real, it hurts so bad that you truly believe you will shatter into a million pieces. You will fall apart into a million millions of shards, you are going to be thrown into the molten lava core of a volcano, and you will still not have suffered enough.

At least that was what Draco felt. And as far as he knew, those feelings were the only thing that existed. It was his fault, his fault and only his that this fight had happened, and he felt as though the guilt was about to strangle him. Except the strangling was real. He was physically unable to breathe properly.

It'd started out with yet another letter of Astoria. The letter had been the catalyst for his panic attack, which had led to him handling the anxiety best he could. His razor blades were all gone, flushed down the toilet never to appear again, but it wasn't pain he needed anyway. He needed numbness, a warm and fuzzy head that softened the sharp thoughts until they were nothing but soft cotton balls, bouncing around in his padded brain. Needless to say, Draco went for his secret stash of alcohol. Just one shot, just one glass, just one sip, and he would calm down. He was sure of it.

When Ginny came home after her three-hour long Quidditch practice, Draco had finished one bottle of wine, two pre-mixed cans of gin and tonic and one beer. He didn't mean to, he never meant to. It just happened.

Those were the words he said in a trembling voice as she looked at him in silence, her face expression hurt and her brown eyes exuding disappointment.

"It just happened", she repeated with a chilly tone. "Right."

"I'm sorry", he whispered.

"I thought you had quit." She was standing completely still, not moving a limb, and it frightened him. "I was so sure you weren't drinking anymore. How could I be so sure?" She was still in the charcoal winter coat and dark wadded boots she usually took off first thing after entering, training bag slumped over one shoulder as if she was just about to leave again. Draco couldn't put an ounce of blame on her. She continued her commentary.

"I had some foolish hope that moving here would help you, you know. That your therapy sessions would lead to something. That you would be ready to take some responsibility for yourself, over your life, over the idiotic cat-and-mouse game you're playing with your life."

"Maybe I'm trying!" Anger was rising in his chest, provoked by Ginny's stone cold expression and hard-hitting words. "Maybe I'm trying my best, and maybe that isn't enough, but I'm fucking trying." An upset tear made its way down his cheek, and he wiped it away. He hadn't gone a day without alcohol in months, he was lying to himself and lying to Ginny, but he couldn't stand to lose this fight. He couldn't stand to lose _her_.

"You've been stashing alcohol in my apartment. In _our_ apartment."

"I'm not denying it, but…"

"There are no buts." She threw her head back laughing, for a split second reminding Draco just the slightest bit about Astoria. It was more than enough. "How could I not have noticed? I live here. I'm here every day. I should've noticed. I should've poured it all out. Merlin, what a failure of a girlfriend I am."

"It won't happen again. I'll quit, I'll quit…" The anger was fading, melting into desperation as he realised he was losing the fight.

"I want to believe you."

"Then do so." A burp, caused by the beer, followed his words. It didn't exactly contribute to his argumentation.

"I wish I did, Draco. I really do." Her gaze was fastened on his, hazelnut meeting ice, and she radiated a sadness that transferred to him in no time at all. "But I'm afraid I can't."

And with those words, she was gone. The empty wine bottle broke into pieces with a high _clang_ as Draco threw it against the wall.

That had been yesterday, but to Draco, it felt like half a millennia had passed since. Not necessarily since the fight, but since his latest consumption of alcohol. His body, his in all likelihood trashed liver and manipulated brain cells, was since long used to small doses of alcohol being pumped in at a constant schedule. He couldn't remember when he'd last went this many hours without the liquid his whole existence depended upon.

Draco was very rarely hungover, thanks to the excellent anti-hangover spell that saved his life over and over again. But he still knew that this, this wasn't a hangover. And whatever it was, it was a thousand times worse.

He'd poured it out, every single drop of it. Part of him detested Ginny for this, detested her for making him do this, and he constantly had to remind himself that it wasn't her fault. He'd brought this upon himself, and it was his own inevitable choice to get rid of the alcohol. He had to. Every time he tried to move the bottle just a little bit closer to his cracked lips to make the thoughts stop, he saw her eyes and the disappointment in them, he heard her words echoing in his head. The anxiety lurched at him with major speed, and he put the bottle down while the evil thoughts continued to run laps inside his brain.

He'd poured the alcohol out, and then he'd gone to bed.

Draco Malfoy had been through many unpleasant nights, but this one still deserved some kind of prize. He could count the minutes of real sleep he'd got on his both hands. Instead of sleeping, he'd spent the dark hours shaking uncontrollably, feeling feverish. His comforter got thrown on and off in furious movements as his body temperature seemed to shift drastically every five minutes, and he'd drunk glass after glass of water as he desperately tried to quench his thirst while puddles of sweat appeared on the grey sheets. His Potion skills came to be useful in the early A.M. as he made himself an anti-fever potion, but just as it seemed to be working, intense waves of nausea hit him and caused him to spend the following hour breathing heavily over the toilet's chilly porcelain. As the regurgitation finally ceased, the alternating shivering and sweating started again. Draco was in a delirium throughout the rest of the night, never quite sure if he was awake or not. At one point, he was sure a herd of chimaeras had invaded his apartment and were burning it to the ground. As morning neared, he was fully convinced he saw Ginny, so close but still so far away, reach for his hands just next to him. He reciprocated the gesture, reached for love and safety and everything significant in the universe, but the only thing he touched was air and his hands passed right through the image of her. Then he saw Astoria appearing in the doorway, dressed in the same clothes she'd been wearing the first night she'd hit him, an emerald green dress he would never be able to forget. He tried to back away from her, he clawed furiously at the air, but she seemed to have little intention of moving. She just flashed him a malicious smile and faded into dust. Draco remembered glancing at the watch on the bedside-table, vaguely apprehending a time of half past six a.m.

That had been the last time he'd summoned the strength to look at it. He had no idea what time of the day it was now. It was light, and the light stung in his eyes if he dared to open them, so he didn't.

Draco was about ninety percent sure he'd never felt worse in his entire life. His body shook too intensely for him to be able to move from the floor spot he'd collapsed in earlier. He felt feverish, sweaty and cold at the same time, constantly unsure whether he was awake or dreaming. He was nauseous. Anxiety came in waves, crashing over him and leaving him feeling even worse than earlier. He saw things, figures and silhouettes, and they seemed so very real but they weren't, because they faded into dust just as fast as they entered his range of vision. His heart was beating fast, like he was running, and he felt like he was running out of oxygen.

Could this be what dying felt like?

xxxxxxxx

A door.

She was looking at a door, trying to convince herself that it wouldn't hurt her, that she could do this, whatever _this_ was.

It could've been funny. Comical, even. Normal, un-enchanted doors, can't do much except open and close. The door didn't even look especially scary. It looked like a normal door, made of a plain wood she didn't know the name of. Not her best area of knowledge, wood.

Whatever. She was avoiding the point. Ginny Weasley was standing in front of her own goddamn door, the entrance to her own goddamn apartment, and she was afraid of entering. It felt like a joke. She wished it'd been a joke.

Part of her was still angry, still extremely upset with what had happened. She was absolutely mad at Draco for doing this. For letting her down like this. Part of her was just hurt, because he _had_ hurt her, he _had_ let her down. Part of her felt guilty, because she hadn't seen this coming and somehow she'd allowed this to happen, deliberately or not. And then there was the part of her least willing to shut up, the part of her that was worried to the breaking point of what Draco had done and why this had happened and if he was okay. Which of course he wasn't. He couldn't possibly be.

There were many parts of Ginny Weasley, but every single one of them was still filled with love and care and affection for Draco Malfoy.

She didn't know what she would say or do. She had absolutely no idea. She just had to trust herself to figure it out quickly.

She opened the door the manual way with a key, not trusting her voice to hold.

"Draco?"

No answer. She tried again, still with no response. But his shoes and jacket were there, in the exact same spot they'd been in yesterday. He must be in the apartment somewhere. The door to their bedroom was slightly open – could he be in there? She did an impressively fast job with taking off her boots and entered the bedroom.

What she saw made her want to cry so bad it was a miracle she didn't.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When Draco wake up, it wasn't in a very pleasant way. Blood was trickling down from his nose into his mouth, and the peculiar taste of iron was what woke him.

"Oh, Merlin, I'm so sorry. Stay still." A mix of black, pale and ginger colours danced in front of his eyes, but he was too dizzy to make out the shape of a person. Even the voice sounded freaky, too loud and too squeaky. If he'd had enough energy, he would've been confused. Something white and soft pressed against his nose, making the blood stop moving.

"You hit yourself", the voice said. It sounded almost normal now, which was a relief. "You have a nosebleed. I tried to stop the bleeding the magical way, but medical charms were never an aptitude of mine…"

"Gi…nny."

"Yeah. Stay still, stay still. _How can I not know how to fix a nosebleed properly?_ "

"You… you…"

"Stop talking. It's not helping." She was still holding cotton under his nose. His vision was sharpening now, the colours starting to become the outline of actual items. He was in their bed again, Ginny on his left side.

"You came back", he said, very tentatively. "Why?"

"Why do anyone?" she whispered. "Because I had to."

"You didn't have to."

"I kind of did, though, didn't I?" A timid smile showed on her lips as she switched the dark red cotton ball to a clean one. "Can't have you ruining my bedroom floor." She sighed. "Sorry. I can't laugh this away. I was really, really mad at you."

"You had every right to be."

"I know. I'm still upset. I just… I've had some time to think things through." Ginny leaned back against the headboard. She was looking at him, and Draco felt like she was scrutinizing every inch of his face. He wondered how he looked – seeing to how terrible he felt, it couldn't be good – and thought that he really didn't want to know. "But I think…"

Draco weren't able to hear her last words. Everything had went black once again.

xxxxxxxx 

Something was wrong with Draco, and it wasn't a hangover. She'd seen those. Living together with seventy chivalrous teenagers who sure knew how to party had given her some first-class experiences. She was the unofficial master of anti-hangover potions, and had useful connections in the kitchen. Greasy pizza with a mountain of cheese wasn't something they served in the Great Hall, but if you gave Dobby one of your ugliest socks, he would gladly prepare one for you and even deliver it to the common room. Ginny knew how to cure a hangover. She just knew that this wasn't a hangover.

Draco had slept for half an hour after she'd moved his frail body to the bed. She was unsure why the nosebleed started, and she'd been silently cursing herself for being so useless at medical spells. She needed her mother.

The cotton hadn't been enough to stop the bleeding, and now Draco was dozing off again. It was taking absolutely everything she had not to panic. What if he fell asleep forever? What if he never woke up? And yet she dared not try to wake him.

It was with a heart full of desperate worry that she reached for her two-way mirror and asked for her mother.

"Nosebleeds in themselves aren't harmful", was Molly Weasley's comment when she joined the party five minutes later, after she'd fixed Draco's nose with a flick of her wand. "But he is burning, Ginny. Have you noticed that he's shaking?"

"Yeah, yeah", she mumbled, apologetically. "I just don't know what to do about it."

"You're going to stay with him. Get a wet towel from the bathroom, try to cool him down", Molly instructed. "I'll just go and prepare an anti-fever potion. I assume you have a couple of dried dung-beetles at home?"

Draco stayed awake only for the short amount of time it took to get him to swallow the potion. Both Weasley women hovered over him for the following hours, neither of them really knowing what to do. Draco slept, but it was an uneasy sleep, contaminated by various screams and movements and panicked breathing. Ginny stayed as close to him as she could, feeling his still so warm body against hers, not even complaining when an uncontrolled motion hit her nose and _she_ got a nosebleed.

The ever so short winter day passed quickly, and by 6 p.m., Molly Weasley excused herself.

"Contact me if he doesn't get better", she said. "There's chicken soup for you both in the kitchen. Try to make him eat something if you can." Ginny's stomach rumbled violently at the bare thought of food, but even so, she couldn't make herself leave Draco's side for a minute. He needed her. Or perhaps she needed him. It didn't really matter.

Sleep was just around the corner for Ginny when Draco finally woke again.

"Ginny."

"Yes, yes. I'm here. It's okay. You're safe, I promise."

"I…saw things." He rubbed his temples, looking puzzled.

"What sort of things?" she asked, but he shook his head, signalizing that he didn't want to talk about it.

"It will be fine." She wanted to believe it as she kissed his still so warm forehead gently, but she was worried sick.

"I poured it out."  
"What?"

"The alcohol. Every single drop of it. I poured it out. I can't… I can never let it destroy us again."

"I…" A million words was running through her head, but she couldn't manage to express a single one. "Draco…"

She was interrupted by the knife-sharp _ring_ of the doorbell. The couple looked at each other in a moment of shared confusion before Ginny went to answer it. Maybe Molly, or even Hermione, was just checking up on them.

Unfortunately, she was wrong. Instead she found herself eye to eye with the one woman she least wanted to have to deal with right now.

"Hello, Ginny", said the sugar-sweet voice of Astoria Malfoy.


	19. Chapter 18-A wizarding duel

**Chapter 18; A wizarding duel**

"Astoria", Draco whispered, slowly ascending from the couch he'd been temporarily parked in. A dark-skinned and well-known face to them both appeared in the doorway next to Astoria.

"And Blaise." He introduced himself with a venomous smile. "We're about to settle this."

"We're about to settle what, exactly?" So far, Astoria had done nothing but provoke a flaming anger, since long lingering in Ginny's chest. She felt thankful for the fact that her wand sat safely in her back pocket, and she reached for it.

"Oh, but Weasley, you were always a clever one." Astoria grinned with malevolence. "You know."

"I don't, actually."

"Yes, you do."

"Ginny, stop it." A faint whisper was heard from Draco, who stood only a few inches behind her. "It's not worth it."

"Exactly. Listen to your boyfriend." Blaise snickered, ironically. "We're after revenge, you moron. Justice, one might call it."

"If I recall this right, _you_ were the one who burned our house to the ground", spat Ginny with her eyes locked on Astoria's. "Unless you're so called _justice_ is one big fat apology and a life-long promise to leave us alone, I think we may have a different view on the concept."

She'd barely eaten, barely slept, and she'd spent her last 24 hours being worried out of her mind. Ginny Weasley felt pretty grumpy already, and this discussion wasn't brightening her mood perceptibly.

"We might have, indeed. But no worries, I'll explain it all to you." Astoria flashed another one of her blinding white smiles. " _You_ stole my husband." She pointed her index finger at Ginny. "And _you_ were arrogant enough to believe you were strong enough to _stand up for yourself._ "

"You don't own me", Draco whispered. "You think you do, but you don't."

"Maybe not legally. But you _have_ pledged your loyalty to me. Lost your own ring, have you?" She spun the thin golden ring on her ring finger, then gave them another smile. Ginny had grown to detest those smiles so intensely it almost chocked her. They reminded her of a young Tom Riddle, handsome and charming but immeasurably evil, and it brought up even more anger, all of it lingering in her chest since long.

"Well, nice to have a lovely little chat with you." Blaise threw his wand in the air, catching it with the skill of a well-trained quidditch player. "But I'm afraid we can't be long. What do you think, As?"  
"I think you're right, Blaise." She drew her wand at that, and Ginny did the same. "That's why we're going to challenge you both to a Wizard's duel. I'll duel you", said Astoria, meeting Ginny's hostile gaze. "Draco, honey", she pronounced the words like they were ugly diseases, "you'll duel Blaise."

Okay. Ginny could handle a duel, but she was definitely doubting whether Draco could. There weren't many options, but she could think of one. It could work, for now.

She grabbed Draco's shaking hand and focused all of her conscience at the one place she'd always associated with safety. Unfortunately, two other hands reached out for her as well.

xxxxxxxxx

When the familiar but still vividly unpleasant sensation of choking while you spiralled through time and space finally ceased, Draco found himself in a place he'd never been before. As he scrutinized the surroundings, he almost felt sad for himself.

The place must've been unrealistically beautiful during the summer months, he thought. It wasn't too bad during winter, either.

They were standing on a magnificent cliff, overlooking the waterside a gaping 20 metres below them. The cliff-stones were shaped in meticulous and elaborate patterns, and Draco imagined it must be one heck of a climb to mount them. He sure was in no shape to try. Waves continued their constant movements as he watched, ebb and flow doing what they'd done since the creation of the Earth. A loud _splash_ was heard every time a wave met with the cliff wall, creating a calming soundtrack. He found it merely ironic in combination with the tension that was hovering in the air above it.

Draco could've stayed there for all of eternity, just observing and trying to capture a picture of the landscape in his mind. At a relatively short distance, perhaps a kilometre away, stood a three-floor cottage, built so that it looked like someone had stolen it from a fairy-tale. Draco wished he could live there.

"It's my oldest brother Bill's house." Ginny had noticed his fascinated gaze. "It was my aunt's before that."

"It's beautiful", Draco whispered. _Maybe_ , he thought. _Maybe the part about Astoria and Blaise is all a dream and we're just going to spend a weekend here._

"Small-talking, are you? Romantic compliments, perhaps?" Astoria's cold voice reminded him it wasn't a dream. "I guess we all have our different strategies."

"I guess we do, Astoria." If Astoria's voice was chilly, Ginny's was below zero. " _Vespertilio!"_

A cloud of black, winged and mouse-like creatures flew out from her wand, towards Astoria with a high-pitched cry of battle. Draco felt a surge of pride over Ginny, but it was quickly extinguished when Astoria answered with a well-aimed _Incendio_. But just as Draco prepared for the worst, Ginny's excellent quidditch player-reflexes saved her and she dodged the flames with tight but still existing margin.

"Watching your girlfriend, Draco?" Blaise let out a belligerent laugh. "She's hot, isn't she? Too bad you'll both be dead soon…"

" _Tarantellagra_!" Draco had raised his wand before Blaise even opened his mouth again.

He could do better, but he had to toy with Blaise for a while first. He was feverish and shaky and faded in and out of unreal hallucinations, but he had to win this duel.

And thankfully, he knew just the secret weapon for Blaise, poor oh-so-easily-scared Blaise.

" _Accio spiders! Oppugno_!"

xxxxxxxxxxxx

Ginny had managed to avoid wizarding duels since the battle of Hogwarts. She'd feared she would be rusty and untrained, but the fighter reflexes in her bod seemed to have stayed there. Her body moved on pure instinct, she spat out spells whose effect she didn't even remember, and she seemed to be doing just fine. The training from Dumbledore's Army was apparently still really useful. The adrenaline rush from the duel made her forget both hunger and fatigue, and there was nothing in the world but her, Astoria and the spells that flew through the wind.

Every now and then when she had the chance, she shot a sideway glance at Draco. His skin was practically transparent and beads of sweat were collecting on his forehead, but his delirious eyes still glowed of determination, and it was enough for her heart to flutter.

For a split second, that was. She had to maintain all her focus on Astoria.

xxxxxxxxx

It was late at night, and his body was sweating from fever, but Draco didn't feel the slightest bit tired. Exhausted, perhaps. His limbs and muscles were sore as if he'd just had a tough quidditch practice, but he wasn't tired. _Draco Malfoy was not tired._

Tired meant giving up, and if there was one thing he refused to do, it was that. Light was flashing all around him as sparks flew from his, Blaise's, Ginny's and Astoria's wands. Harsh winter winds made him shiver and once in a while an agonising spell would hit him, but he fought on. He'd always been pretty skilled at duels, and from what he remembered from his Hogwarts years, he was significantly better than Blaise. Their fight was _not_ settled.

Time seemed to move differently. He was clueless whether their duel had been going on for ten minutes or two hours – but it didn't matter. He had also absolutely no idea which time of the day it was. It was dark, but then again, December in Great Britain meant darkness during all hours of the day. The darkness would've been a problem, but the on-going action seemed to have given him excellent nightvision.

 _Conjuctivis. Rictusempra. Densaugeo. Petrificus Totalus._

The spells didn't affect Blaise for more than a minute before he found some sort of counterspell or antidote. He had to step up his game if he wanted to win this, but the fight had started to wear him down, and he could feel himself getting weaker by the minute.

It wasn't really legal, but as he watched Ginny duel with eminent competence, saw her red hair flying around her in airspeed, he knew there was no way out if he wanted to protect them both.

There was the risk that one of them would survive, of course. That would mean a probable life-time sentence in Azkaban for him and a dangerous life-time enemy for Ginny, but there was also a chance in him succeeding. And it was worth taking.

" _Sectumsempra Maxima!"_

xxxxx

Ginny had never seen so much blood at the same time. Not even in the battle of Hogwarts. The profit of magical battles – they usually don't make that much of a mess. But Draco had used a spell she recognized all too well, and now they all stood petrified, unable to take their eyes away from the bleeding shell of a human being. Blaise's face expression was twisted and just _wrong_ , and he didn't move a limb while the red, thick liquid gushed from his wounds. Ginny was trying to watch Astoria closely, prepared for the onslaught that was to come, but Draco's terrified eyes were screaming out for her. _It's okay,_ she tried to say with her gaze. _Sometimes there's no way out. Sometimes you have to do horrible things to survive. It will be okay. We will be okay._

 _We won't,_ said Draco's eyes. Then they filled with a fear she'd never seen in his eyes before, and she could practically see how a scream was rising in his throat, but she never heard it before someone pushed her and she plummeted towards her guaranteed death.

xxxxxxxx

Draco was now entirely sure someone had taken over his body. This was out of his competence. He'd definitely earned himself a bunk in Azkaban already.

But somehow, it didn't matter. Nothing mattered. All his care had been blown away, gone with the wind, not leaving a single trace behind.

He lifted his wand towards the woman who'd destroyed his life, sabotaged his self-esteem and wrecked a once perfectly fine life into a miserable bare existence. A look of slight surprise flew over her cruel face, as if she hadn't expected this much of him. Of course she hadn't. She never had.

"You destroyed me", whispered Draco, pointing his wand in exasperation. "But that's okay. We'll settle it now."

"Of course we will, Draco-kins. You don't have anyone else, remember? I made sure of that. Did you know that I am the reason your mother is sick? I poisoned her." She laughed, a terrifying laugh that echoed over the cliff-walls. "But you can't help it. You still love me, deep inside. You know that we're made for each other."

" _Sectumsempra Maxima_!"

He didn't even stay to see the outcome. He just jumped, and fell towards the sea with stupefying velocity.

A/N: Soo, I kind of really hate writing these kind of scenes. Duelling, battling, fighting. Not my greatest skill. But I'm working on it! Did I do okay?

I'm really sorry for all the cliffhangers. I know you hate them, it's just that they're so fun to write! I can't help it. You can hate me if you want to, it's okay.

MERRY CHRISTMAS Y'ALL! I will try to publish a Harry Potter one-shot on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day, a thing I wrote last year and was very pleased with. It would be amazing if any of you wanted to read it!

Oh, yeah, and by the way; I kind of invented a name for Ginny's Bat-Bogey spell. Vertilio is the latin name for bat, so…


	20. Chapter 19-Waking

**Chapter 19; Waking**

 **xx-flashback, November 1996-xx**

Draco Malfoy's life was officially a Mess with a capital M.

He was failing a vast majority of his classes at Hogwarts. Sleep had suddenly become somewhat of a rarity in his life. His appetite did no longer exist, and he constantly forgot to eat. His father was in _prison_. And last but surely not least, he was a sixteen year old Death Eater given a task he was doomed to fail. So yeah, he didn't really feel that honoured, no matter how much his aunt Bellatrix told him he should.

The early November morning was peaceful, which stood in sharp contrast to the rest of his life. He'd snuck out on the school grounds by himself, bringing only a coat and a backpack with a few belongings. No one would notice his absence by the breakfast table - the whole Slytherin house was used to it by now. But this time his plans were innocent. He just needed some time alone.

The oak he'd chosen as resting-place was situated on a smaller hill not far from Hogwarts Quidditch Pitch, the arena in which he no longer trained. He had perfect view over the pitch thanks to the elevation, but knew from experience and self-investigation that he was practically invisible to the players. A perfect hiding place - _his_ perfect hiding place. The grass was damp with dew, but Draco wasn't bothered by it. He was alone in the presence of nature, of trees and birds. He had an apple and an enchanted flask of tea that stayed warm, and no one would bother him here. It was perfect. One silent place in the chaotic world.

The Gryffindor Quidditch team were warming up down on the pitch, running laps and doing pushups in the mud. He envied them, the lucky souls able to enjoy themselves playing some simple, irrelevant game. He'd forgotten the feeling of doing something only because you wanted to.

A black sketchpad lay in his lap, as if taunting him, challenging him to grab his chewed-down magic drawing pencil and move it over the paper. But what would he paint? His _feelings?_ A Slytherin emblem? A portrait of The Dark Lord? An apple? Every suggestion felt sillier than the other. Had he really enjoyed doing this once? He flipped through the old pages, those already filled with various sketches of people and trees and other meaningless objects. They were all equally disturbing to look at, painful reminders about the fact that his life had been manageable once upon a time.

Due to some unknown reason, he always kept a pair of enchanted binoculars in his backpack. They'd proved to be useful a couple of times - and they gave him an even better view over the Quidditch pitch. He could always enjoy himself watching the Gryffindor players make fools out of themselves.

But before he had time to reflect over what he was doing, her face was appearing on the paper, line by line with careful touch. Jawline. Cheekbones. Blushing cheeks.

And the eyes. The glittering eyes, shining of light and bravery and liveliness, shining of something that seemed to attract every person identifying as male in the nearest area.

The personality pretending to be so unaware of it.

The smile, honest and authentic.

The tall and slender body with its well-toned muscles from Quidditch.

The ambition, the oh so Gryffindor-like chivalry, the honesty and knife-sharp intelligence.

The freckles, mysteriously attractive on her, placed in artistic constellations on nose and cheeks.

The hair, the auburn hair that never turned out the right tone in portraits, no matter how much he tried to enchant it.

Detail after detail appeared on his paper, and he could feel himself relax as they did so, he could feel himself sinking into a calmer state that occurred so seldom nowadays. Draco was alone with his sketchpad and pencil, and nothing would ever bother him here.

Except time. Time always managed to find a way. The Gryffindor team had finished their practice for today, and they were walking towards the changing rooms. He could see her saying something to Harry Potter, and he could see them both laughing. A bitter jealousy rose in his chest, despite him desperately trying to ignore it.

His life really was a mess, huh? And she was the messiest part of it all.

He tore out the finished drawing from his sketchpad in deep frustration, leaving it for the weather to demolish, and then left.

 **xx-current time-xx**

Draco woke up to shadows.

All he saw was dark murkiness, a confusing nothing. He was clueless about his whereabouts. It felt like he was existing in an empty void, floating around in space, sucked into one of those dark holes the muggles talked about. And he was cold, colder than he could ever remember being, colder than what he'd thought to be humanly possible. He tried to curl up into a ball, making himself smaller to maximize his body heat, but his limbs didn't react. It was as if his body wasn't there.

And then he was warm, way too warm. He wasn't sweating, he was _burning._ Someone was setting fire to his body - that was the only legitimate explanation. His flight instincts were all trying to help him flee, but his body was numb and immobile.

Was he dying? Was this what it felt like to die?

But there were sounds. He heard something. There were people talking.

His temperature returned to normal.

Then suddenly, everything was light.

 **xxxxxxxxxx**

Ginny Weasley woke up to a normal body temperature. That did not, however, mean that she found it very pleasant.

The room was spinning, and everything was a blurry mess in which she could make out close to nothing. The colours all blended together, combining into an ugly palette of greyish colours. Grey and blue. Some white, perhaps? And a large dot of ginger, hovering right above her. She moved her arm, trying to touch it, but found that an excruciating pain in her ribcage prevented her from going all the way.

"Ssch, ssch." She recognized that voice. "It's all good, Ginny. You're all good. Just lay still."

"Bill?" A faint whisper was all she managed. Her throat itched, as if she was catching a cold.

"Indeed, little sis." He placed a light kiss on her forehead. "Try to go to sleep again, will you? You need to rest."

"Where am I? I demand to know where I am. I can't see anything…" Her brain felt distastefully fuzzy, and she hated it. She wanted her brain clear and competent, just like it always was.

"You're at St. Mungos, sis. You're in safety, you're being taken care of. No need to worry."

"Why am I here?" She tried to remember, but her memories were just as blurry as the rest of her thoughts. She remembered Astoria, standing outside her door and completely scaring the shit out of her. Everything from there was a blank.

"You had a pretty adventurous night", Bill answered avoidingly. "I'm not really supposed to talk to you about it. The healers said it was best if you recovered the memories in your own time. Just… just try to relax."

"Quit screwing around, you worthless shithole of a brother", she muttered. "Just… just talk to…" She never finished her sentence. Sleep had come to get her once again.

When she woke up the next time, her view was significantly sharper. She could actually _see_ her surroundings now - a clear improvement. She was indeed at . Sadly enough, she'd visited the place enough times to recognize her surroundings. Bill was still at her side, mindlessly flipping through an issue of Witches Weekly. She wondered where Draco was.

"Where is Draco?" Her voice was still hoarse, and her throat felt like she'd swallowed an entire desert. She needed water.

 _Water._

She remembered, now.

She remembered falling, falling with a speed she'd never experienced before, not even when flying on broomsticks. Seeing the water down below, knowing she was going to land in it, knowing she probably wouldn't make it. Fearing there would be rocks at the bottom, fearing they would crush her. Knowing they probably would. _This is it,_ she'd thought. _I may have survived the Battle of Hogwarts but I'm sure as hell not surviving this._

Draco, Draco, Draco. Where was Draco? She needed to talk to him, hug him, kiss him, feel him. She needed to make sure he was alive and well.

He'd killed Blaise. Had Astoria killed him?

"...in another room, he's being taken care of, don't you worry, they're doing everything…" She was drawn back to reality by Bill's voice, only to realise she'd missed half of his monologue.

"I didn't quite catch that. What other room? _What are they doing_?" There was a desperate pitch to her voice. Draco was fine, right? He had to be fine. Every other option was too horrible to even think about. But Bill's eyes were sad when he repeated the story.

"I found all of you, Ginny. You and Draco, and Blaise and Astoria. You were all lying on the shore, none of you conscious. I panicked, of course. I screamed for Fleur. We two took you to St. Mungos."

"I asked for Draco."

"Yeah, yeah." He made an uncomfortable face, like this wasn't something he wanted to talk about. "He was, well… he was not in a good state even before the duel."

"I remember", she whispered. "I… We took care of him. I don't know what it was… is. Where is he?"

"He's not here, Gin."

"Then where is he? _I demand to see him!_ Take me too him! Now!" She was screaming despite her inability to do so.

"Please, Ginny, calm down. He's just fine. He's in good hands. It's just…" There was a sad smile upon his face. "The alcohol. It was slowly killing him, trashing his organs. And when he quit so abruptly… they said it was a severe case of alcohol abstinence. The healers are doing their best."

"Is he going to be okay?" Her voice had never been weaker than this, but Bill, being both a long experienced big brother and a self-learned master of comforting people, still heard her.

"I hope so", he said. Ginny found his words far from reassuring, and tried to sit up to be able to punch him in the face, but the acute pain in her chest made her forget the idea.

"He better be fine", she said with confidence and then yawned. "That, he owes me." The corners of Bill's mouth lifted into a conservative smile.

"Sure, little sister. If you say so." He tucked a strand of her auburn hair behind her ear, a small yet affectionate move. "Oh, and by the way - it's probably best if you lay still. Your ribs are kind of broken."

 **xxxxxxxxx**

 **xx-flashback-November 1996-xx**

Even though the grey and foggy November day was the pure definition of depressive weather, Ginny Weasley was in a happy mood. And why shouldn't she be? It was Saturday, she'd just finished a tough Quidditch practice during which she'd scored no less than eight goals, she'd done all of this weeks assignments yesterday, and she and Dean had scheduled a date in the Room of Requirement this evening.

"What's the matter with you, Ginny?" Demelza Robins, one of the other chasers, giggled at the sight of Ginny dancing around in her towel, simultaneously humming a muggle song Hermione had taught her. "Have you used a cheering charm or something?"

"Nothing, I promise." She laughed. "I'm just really happy."

"Well, please share some of that happiness", said Demelza with a groan. "I have detention tonight. Three hours. With _Professor Snape_."

"We've all been there", said Ginny. She and Demelza had the girl's changing room to themselves after Katie's tragic accident, which was nice in the matter of space and available showers, but lonely in the matter of company and laughter. Katie had always been a laugh - witty with a sense of humor, always bringing a new topic to discuss. Ginny didn't dare say anything out loud, but she knew that Demelza had always liked Katie's company more.

She tried her best to be benevolent and comradely, she really did. It just didn't always help.

"They're intimidated by you", Hermione had told her once. "Face it, Ginny. You're thin but muscular and your legs are up to your neck. You have flawless skin - no, freckles doesn't count. You're popular. Boys like you. You're smart, you have humor. Everyone knows that even _The Chosen One_ have a crush on you. You intimidate people."

First world-problems, truly. But having younger kids blush when they talk to you, and constantly having other girls spread rumours about you in pure jealousy, gets tiring after a while. And she hated the fact that it affected her teammates in Quidditch. Quidditch was supposed to be immune to all negativities.

Girls. Why did they have to be so complicated?

It wasn't even lunch-time yet, which meant she had the whole day in front of her. She'd promised to meet Luna at their secret hiding-spot in an hour, but since she had nothing better to do in the meantime, she went there directly. Some alone-time never hurt - it was somewhat of a luxury in the crowded halls and shared dorms of Hogwarts.

Their secret spot was really more of Luna's secret place than it was Ginny's. But even the popular, successful and seemingly perfect girl needed her moments of silence, and she often found them up here. There was a marvellous view over the Quidditch pitch, her second home, and if you knew where they were you could find both the Forbidden Forest and Hagrid's Hut. The only company up there was trees, birds and occasionally a squirrel, and it was absolutely perfect when you needed to be alone.

Or when you needed a private place to snog someone. Ginny had tried both.

It was a pretty steep climb to get there, but she'd done it enough times to not get exhausted by it. It took only minutes for her to reach her destination, and when she did so, she relaxed against the decrepit oak that had become her go-to resting place. It was weird, but she felt safe there. Safe, in the middle of the deplorable, vehement world.

Someone had left what seemed like a drawing under the oak. It must've been pretty fresh, since it had not yet been destroyed by the weather or by time. She wouldn't have thought much about it normally - drawing wasn't an oddity at Hogwarts, lots of kids did it, and sometimes you found art strewn over the school property. She kind of liked it. Art was beautiful, after all, and she was always impressed by the artists - how is a pair of hands and a pencil able to accomplish such beauty? She was impressed by this drawing as well.

But the one thing that both fascinated and creeped her out about this particular drawing, was the fact that she recognized the motive so well - It was the face she saw in the mirror each day.

Who could have painted this?

She folded the picture neatly and put it in her pocket, saving it.

 **xxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

When Draco woke up for the second time, he saw neither light nor darkness.

Apparently, heaven looked exactly like the patient rooms of St. Mungos. That, he'd never guessed. Everything from the worn wallpaper to the weird plastic floors was the same, every detail identical. The beds even felt the same. He lifted his arm, which felt surprisingly heavy. He still had a body. Every fact he'd ever collected about heaven had been proved false so far, but maybe it wasn't that odd. Maybe that was exactly the way it was supposed to be.

He felt remarkably worn out and sleepy to be in heaven, though. And it smelled funny. Oh well - he would get used to that soon enough.

"Draco?" The human that must've been an angel had appeared next to him, examining him closely. The human looked suspiciously much like a healer. Weird. Everything in heaven seemed to remind him of St. Mungos. Unless…

"Draco, you're at . You had a pretty bad fall, and aside from that, you were already in a pretty bad state before that." The healer's smile was kind, sympathetic. Draco hated it still, because if he was alive, the worst thing that could possibly happen must've had happen.

"Gi..Ginny?" He asked.

"She's fine. She's been asking for you. You will see her soon enough, but for now, you need to rest." The healer gave Draco's cheek a friendly stroke, and left.

He felt a tear of happiness roll down his cheeks, while fireworks of euphoria exploded inside him.

He didn't notice falling asleep, and he didn't notice waking up. All he noticed was that suddenly, she was there. She was lying in the bed next to him, beautiful as ever.

He could never fully express her beauty in a way that made it justice. He strongly doubted he'd ever be able to. She was his sun, his once upon a time, his dream, his heroine, his saviour. She was the one he'd never deserved, yet received anyway in a miraculous serendipity.

His miracle.

He'd nearly lost her this time. He would never, never, lose her again.

He thought she was sleeping, but as she reached for his hand and he grabbed it, he realised she wasn't.

She was awake, and her hand was warm, and she was alive. She was very much alive.

"Merry Christmas", she whispered.

"Merry Christmas", he repeated.


	21. Chapter 20-Happy New Year

**Chapter 20; Happy New Year**

"I always _knew_ that bitch was evil", said Ron with a stunned expression after Ginny and Draco finished their fifth telling of the dangerous-duelling-and-miraculously-surviving-story. "I knew it. I just knew."

"Yes, Ron. So we've heard." Ginny made a face at her older brother. "Five times, now."

"Whatever. I wish my life was as interesting as yours." Ron rolled his eyes. "Harry never wants to hang out and do something fun anymore. Apparently, he wants to spend as much free time as possible with his new _partner._ "

"Whom for the record we haven't met yet", Hermione commented. She was sitting with her legs crossed in front of the sofa, allowing Ron to massage her shoulders in smooth movements. Even though they seemed to bicker more than humanly possible, Draco had to admit they made an awfully cute couple.

"You don't want that", he answered Ron. "Seriously."

"I have to side with Draco", muttered Ginny. "My ribs _still_ hurt and I'm _still_ suspended from Quidditch."

"You're not suspended, it's Christmas break."

"Same thing."

"Speaking of Harry, why isn't he here?" There was a concerned look in Hermione's eyes as she looked from Ginny to Mrs Weasley in search for an answer.

"Said he was busy", said Molly without lifting her eyes from the turkey platter she was garnishing. "Shame on him to miss such an opportunity to eat my famous Christmas Dinner a second time, I say."

"Shame indeed", said Bill, who hovered in the kitchen, moistening his lips with the tip of his tongue in pure excitement. "Is it by any chance time to eat soon, Mother?"

"Not yet, you impatient wolf." A wave of hysterical laughter spread across the room. Draco couldn't quite understand why, but as Ginny whispered a few explaining words in his ear he finally did so and joined the laughter.

Home. Draco had always had a complicated relation to the word.

The mansion he grew up in had been his home, and he had come to detest it with every fibre of his being. It held so many memories, almost all of them distressing and tormenting. He hadn't been there in ages, never wished to go back. The mansion had been his physical home, but mentally it had been nothing but his prison, his chamber of torture. A home meant a safe place, and Draco had never felt safe there.

Hogwarts had been his first true home, like it had been for so many others. It had been a place for him to feel safe and to build a life, build an identity that he could live and prosper in. His first five years at Hogwarts had been the happiest years of his life - it had been the first time he was able to fully _live_ the life he'd been given.

Eventually the darkness that seemed to characterize his life had reached Hogwarts as well, and his home was no longer a place with guaranteed safety.

The apartment he'd lived in with Astoria had been his home and he had had a signed contract to prove so. That one had, just like the mansion he grew up in, been the absolute opposite of safety from the beginning.

But this. _This._ The Burrow.

He'd only been there two or three times, but that had been enough to give the unique house with its creaky staircases and uneven windows an ever-lasting spot in his heart. The house never seemed to be empty, the kitchen never ceased to smell of delicious home-baked cookies and savoury casseroles, and there was always someone willing to talk with you. There was always a spot saved for you in the couch no matter how many people sat there and whenever you needed the fireplace you found it was already burning. He'd never arrived there without being welcomed by at least two cats, he'd never heard anyone say no to a game of Exploding Snap, and he'd never heard harsher words there than Ron and Hermione's bickering.

The Burrow was love and respect, shelter and safety, laughter and discussion. He hadn't stumbled across it until 22 years old, but the Burrow was home.

"Pass me the roast potatoes, will you, Ron."

"Hey! Who kidnapped the cranberry sauce? I want some, too!"

"Anyone wants brussel sprouts? Victoire, you want some? You'd rather die? Seriously, Bill, teach your kid some language… _You_ can fuck off!"

" _Exquisite_ mashed potatoes, Molly."

"Will there be Christmas Pudding after this?"

"Hey, anyone wants to have a drinking contest? Not appropriate? Oh, _come on_! Ow, Ginny! You're not allowed to slap your brothers!"

Draco had never had a Christmas dinner like this. The food was indeed delicious, even better than the food at Hogwarts, which Draco had never before thought possible. He ate of everything until he was full, and he let the food stay in his stomach, settle there to give him the nutrition he needed. He added to the discussions, he laughed at jokes, and when one year old Dominique tugged at his jeans legs, she was given a place in his lap immediately.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" Ginny's voice was a careful whisper in his ear, discreet to avoid attention.

"This place is heaven", he whispered back. She smiled at that, placing a light kiss on his cheek.

"Ooh! Lovebirds!" The brother who worked with dragons, Charlie, whistled from across the table. "Want some privacy?"

"You're just jealous", his sister retaliated. "We all know that."

"I'm not jealous", said Charlie, swallowing two brussel-sprouts in one bite. "I prefer dragons anyway. People are way too complicated."

 **xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Draco could agree with Charlie. Not that he'd ever been a particularly huge fan of dragons, but people were indeed the most complicated creatures he'd ever seen. Care of Magical Creatures had never been his best subject - heck, a hippogriff had almost _killed_ him once - but he was still convinced there was no creature more complex than the human.

Take Astoria, for example. He'd visited her at St. Mungo's yesterday. She was in bad shape, a shell of her older self, but she would survive. Draco wasn't guilty of anything, technically, since he'd used such an unknown spell. The Wizarding World's Legal Rights system was pretty messed up. Astoria didn't talk to him during his visit, just stared out into the void, but the healers assigned to her had talked to Draco about personality disorders and psychoses. He hadn't understood half of it, but he had still somewhere very deep inside felt just a tiny little bit sorry for Astoria. He knew what it was like to be messed up. But he also remembered every little thing she'd done, every little thing she'd made him do, every little piece of him she'd destroyed, and he knew that he would still resent her for the rest of his life. All of it hadn't been her fault, but that didn't make it any easier to forgive.

But he'd been promised she would never be able hurt him again. And that helped.

Blaise had survived, too, miraculously in a much better shape than Astoria. He was able to talk to Draco, and they had a short conversation mostly consisting of Blaise telling Draco how sorry he was. Draco had accepted his apologies. Blaise had never been evil or villainous, only weak and easily manipulated.

And then there was Draco himself. He'd been put on an antidepressive medication that was supposed to reduce his anxiety - a counterspell for the monsters. He was still seeing Bob, the psychiatrist, and they were slowly working out all his issues and problems, trying to find the reasons to why they existed. Working out ways to make his life bearable again. Finding coping methods that wasn't alcohol or self-harm-related.

"There's nothing wrong with you and there never has been", Bob had explained. "You've just been given a more difficult life than most people."

It was awfully unfair, Draco thought when the panic attacks came and he cried and cried with Ginny at his side until they eventually passed. But he'd accepted it. It was part of his life, after all. It was part of him.

Humans truly were complicated creatures.

 **xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

As soon as dinner was finished, Draco collapsed in the comfy sofa once again. It'd only been two days since St. Mungo's released him, and he was still not physically recovered, Maybe, if he was lucky, he could catch just a moment of sleep before the fireworks later tonight…

"Tired, huh?" It couldn't have been more than minutes before he was dragged back into conscience. George Weasley, one of the brothers whose company Draco had learned to appreciate the most, sat down next to him with little Fred in his arms. The baby fuzzed and whimpered alarmingly while its father tried to cradle it to sleep.

"Probably not at all in comparison to you."

"Thanks for the compliment." George grinned at Draco's remark, but the bags under his eyes spoke only of frustration.  
"Seriously though, do you get _any_ sleep?"

"Two-three hours at best. I'm literally living on muggle coffee and half-illegal energizing potions. It's worth it, though. And Angie has it worse."

"Yes, I do. Anyone care to explain _why_ men can't breastfeed?" Angelina was standing up, rocking little Roxanne and looking equally as exhausted as George.

"Anatomy", Percy declared from his armchair.

"Yeah, but we're _wizards._ Why should it apply to us?" Roxanne cried, a shockingly loud and high-pitched cry to come from something to small, as if she wished to emphasise her mother's words.

"Don't tell her, but I'm kind of glad it does", George whispered.

It still surprised him, how welcoming and accepting the Weasley family had been of him. How they so kindly had forgiven him for the things his family had done, how they so easily had accepted the idea of starting over on a blank page - it was a mystery to him. It was, however, a mystery he didn't mind.

"So", said George, still cradling the crying baby. "I haven't had the chance to talk to you that much. You mind if I do?"

"Aren't you, already?" He couldn't restrain a chuckle.

"No. I mean - big brother talk." The redheaded man grinned. "All the important stuff."

"Indeed." His eyes wandered away to Ginny, leaning with her lower back against the rusty kitchen counter, deep in conversation with Hermione. "You see that girl over there? That's my sister."

"I'm aware."

"I have known her for 22 years, which equals her whole life. I watched her grow up. I can tell you what the last thing she does before she goes to sleep is. I can tell you the date she first flew on a broomstick. I can tell you the lyrics to her favourite song. I can tell when she's angry for real and when she just feels like teasing you. I can tell when she wants to be talked to, and I can tell when she doesn't. I can tell you what her worst nightmares are about, and I can tell you about how she handles them. I can tell when she's ecstatic, devastated or furious. And", he said with a pause, "I can tell when she loves someone." As he finished the sentence, Ginny gave Draco a questioning smile, a soundless gesture to ask if everything was okay. He smiled back, confirming that it was, then turned his focus to George again.

"I love her", he said, matter-of-factly.

"I know you do. I can see it. And she loves you. I was sceptical at first, but I see it now. She really loves you."

"I don't deserve her." The words escaped his mouth before he could stop them.

"No, you don't." George smiled, a kind but serious smile. "Frankly, nobody deserves her. She's too good for the world. She's always been. And I will never think of a guy that could be good enough for her. But truth is, it doesn't matter what I think, because she will make her own choices. Now she's chosen you." He watched her for another moment, nostalgia in his eyes. "Just promise me you'll try to be good enough."

"I will. I promise."

"You better. And if I ever, _ever,_ "His face was as stern as Draco remembered Professor McGonagall's to have been. "find out that you've done something to hurt her, I will _crush_ you into pieces and that duel you experienced will have been a walk in the park in comparison. That understood?"

"Understood."

They sat in silence for a while after that, listening to the soundtrack of people talking and babies crying. Fred was still whimpering in his father's arms, while Roxanne's screams had quietened after Angelina had fed her.

"If there's something I don't get", Angelina said, "it is how such small children have the energy to scream so much."

"Is she sleeping yet?" As if to answer her father, Roxanne started crying again. Angelina leaned the girl against her own shoulder, patting her back.

"Not yet." She kissed her daughter's head, just in perfect timing to get sprayed with baby puke. "Oh… no." She fumbled for her wand, still holding the crying baby. " _Evanesco_." She smelled her clothes. "Damn it. George, please, give me some help here. We both need a change of clothes. ."

"I'm busy!"

"I can hold Fred", Draco offered quickly. George eyed him skeptically from head to toe, then shrugged his shoulders.

"Sure. It can't hurt. Don't drop him. Or strangle him. Or-"

" _George_ , she threw up _again_..."

"Coming." At that, George simply handed the baby to Draco, and he was left alone with the baby.

"Hi", he said tentatively. "I'm Draco." The whimpering baby quietened and just stared at him. "Not that I expect you to know who I am. I just wanted to introduce myself."

"You're lucky to have been born into this family", he continued. "I'm jealous. I wish I had been, too." Fred was silent now, listening to the unknown man's voice, his petite mouth shaped like an _o_. Draco had never been a big fan of babies, but now, when the boy was no longer crying, even he could admit they were cute. The little boy had dark skin like his mother and the same black, curly hair, but his nose was the same shape as both George's and Ginny's. Fred had a tight grip about Draco's pinkie, and his nails were sharp but the gesture adorable.

And before Draco even noticed what was happening, the boy had drifted of to sleep. Fred was breathing slowly, in and out through his tiny little nose and mouth, and Draco found himself breathing in the same rhythm. He felt himself relax, letting go of the built-up pressure he'd carried throughout the evening.

"He likes you." Draco didn't notice Angelina's presence until she was right beside him, sipping at a cup of tea and smiling through her exhaustion.

"Seems like it." He couldn't help but turn the corners of his mouth slightly upward while carefully caressing Fred's messy, dark brown coiffure. "I've never actually held a baby before."

"You're a natural, then."

"I wouldn't be too sure about that."

"Well, I sure would", said George, who seemed to have sneaked up on them from behind. "Molly finally got Roxanne to sleep in their bedroom."

"Cheers." Angelina raised her teacup towards the glass of water her husband was holding, and they shared a silent toast.

"Cheers. How long's he been sleeping? Ten minutes? You're a professional, Draco."

"Agreed." Angelina took another sip of her steamy tea. "You heard that, Ginny?"

"I heard what?"

"Your boyfriend's got a natural talent for putting babies to sleep."

"So you better start working! Don't let him lose his talent!"

"Dream on!" Ginny made a highly inappropriate finger gesture towards her brother. Molly gave her the evil eye, but it wasn't enough to keep the rest of the Weasleys for laughing.

 **xxxxxxxxxx**

Ginny Weasley was the happiest she'd been in a long, long time.

Her ribs were broken and she was still suffering waves of fatigue and agonizing pain from the shock she'd caused her body during the fall, she experienced insufferable nightmares and seemed to have developed an incurable paranoia that prevented her from trusting anybody. And still, she was utterly convinced she lived the best life in the whole world.

"It's freezing out here." Draco rubbed his hands alongside his arms, using the friction for warmth. "Do we _have_ to watch the fireworks?"

" _Yes!_ " Every member of the Weasley clan answered him as one.

"Okay", mumbled Draco. "Got it. Forget I asked."

"Oh, come here." Ginny laid his arms around him, winter coat touching winter coat, and he gave her a thankful smile.

"Anyone for champagne?" Bill waved with a fancy-looking golden flask. "It's alcohol-free… _Yes, Ron_ , I'm sure!"

"So, one minute left", she whispered in Draco's ear after Percy had declared the news. "You okay?"

"More than okay." He squeezed her hand, and his was chilly against hers, but it didn't matter. "I've had a lovely evening."

"I'm glad." She raised her glass to that, and Draco raised his. "Here's to many more."

"Here's to a life full of them." They toasted.

And as they did so, the fireworks began, lighting up the sky in the most breath-taking and awe-inspiring constellations of colour. It was easy to distinguish the ones George had brought from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes - they all spelled out HAPPY NEW YEAR in round, rainbow-colored uppercase letters. Toasts were shared, and utterances about the New Year were made to their right and left - yes, probably all over Britain - but neither Ginny nor Draco were noticing any of it.

The champagne glasses, of course enchanted, had drifted away from their owners to give them some privacy and avoid being crushed in the intense kissing session.

"Happy new year", Ginny whispered as they eventually parted.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

A/N; There you go! It's not that much left of this fanfiction, unfortunately, but I promise you there's a few more chapters to go!

If you read this, you should know that I love you and your support means everything. Truly. No matter how few readers I have, if there's anyone out there enjoying this, then it's worth it.

It never fails to make my day when I receive a review on this fanfiction, keep that in mind!


	22. Chapter 21-Intimacy

**Chapter 21; Intimacy**

Harry Potter was, to say the least, confused beyond comparison. He'd been through a bunch of confusing adventures in his life, and yet this one felt profoundly more peculiar than any other.

It was a peaceful hour, somewhere early in the day. The curtains were the color of mother-of-pearl, and they shimmered in the sunlight they let through, reflecting the light onto his face. The light made him able to truly see the bedroom whose details it'd been too dark to examine yesterday, and he inspected it with great interest. It was surprisingly neat, the books in the bookshelf arranged after colour, the writing desk twice as organized as his. The full-length mirror was meticulously clean, and the wardrobe door stood open just enough to reveal a neatly sorted collection of clothes. Except for the most comfortable and luxurious bed Harry had ever slept in and the maroon tapestries, there wasn't much else furniture in the room, but he adored it nonetheless. The room wasn't the problem at all. The light hangover, sneaking up on him with its headache and slight dizziness, wasn't the problem either. No, the real issue with the problem was in fact how unproblematic it _felt_.

The handsome, handsome body next to him shuffled in its sleep, letting out a sleepy moan.

"You awake?", the sleepy voice whispered. "Sleep well?"

"Wonderful, thank you." He placed a kiss on the beautiful person's lips, not even noticing the alcohol-infused morning breath.

"I had a marvellous time yesterday." The body stretched, waking itself up.

"So did I." Harry let out a chuckle. "It was… an experience."

"Feel like doing it again sometime?"

"How soon?"

"Whenever you want to." The person blew him a kiss as its body raised itself from the bed. Harry couldn't help but peer at the naked body from behind as it moved, bending down to reach for the clothes that had been thrown on the floor in sudden haste the night before. He watched the chiseled back muscles flex as they pulled a dark blue t-shirt over the head, watched the toned legs pull on briefs and stone-washed jeans. He watched it with amusement and adoration and fascination, but also with deep bewilderment.

Harry Potter had done many odd things in his life, but until yesterday night, he had never spent the night with a person of the male gender. Yet here he was. And he'd enjoyed it.

Harry Potter had battled dragons, dementors and the most powerful, villainous wizard of all time. He'd spent months camping in the woods, he'd been chased by a three-headed dog, and he'd actually died once - but he had never experienced _this_ before.

And no matter how absurd it felt, he'd loved it.

He loved him.

 **xxxxxxxxx**

"So, Draco." Bob was seated in his usual armchair, leaning back and scrutinizing Draco with his therapist-eyes. Draco knew that wasn't the case - therapy was supposed to be free from legilimency - but he always felt like those eyes stared right through him, through everything he felt and thought and was.

"Yes?"

"How are you doing?"

"Well", he admitted. "I'm feeling… fine."

"Would you like to elaborate?"

"The panic attacks are better. And I feel… calmer. Like I can finally relax. I don't necessarily feel _good_ … but I'm okay."

"That's progress, Draco." Bob offered him a smile. "Progress is what we're aiming for, after all."

"I know." He fingered at the golden bracelet Ginny had given him just yesterday. There were room for a collection of different charms, but he had only one so far - a small-scale, golden heart, giving off the most low-key of vibrations. It was supposed to remind him of his heart, the heart that still beat and would continue to do so for a long, long time. "And I am making progress. I can feel it."

"Any suicidal thoughts? Thoughts of self-harm?"

"Some. I'm… I'm trying to learn not to act on them. Some days are easier than others."

"And that's the way life works", said Bob. He scribbled something on his notepad. "Try as we might, we can never make our lives perfect. We can only do the best with what we have." They watched in unison as a crow flew past their window, probably chasing some smaller bird to eat for snack. _Maybe I should've been a bird,_ Draco thought. _Seems like a pretty simple life._

But he wasn't a bird, and that was that. He was only Draco.

"I'm drawing again", he confessed. "Mostly doodles and insignificant scrabbles. But… It's been a long time since."

"I had no idea you used to draw. Is that something you enjoy doing?"

"I've always done it. Since I was a child. There's something meditative in it."

"Well, drawing can be a useful method to cope with your feelings. Expressing them in a way that's not self-destructive. That's great."

"I suppose it is." The therapist and his client stayed silent for a while, listening only to the immutable soundtrack of people travelling the crowded cobble streets outside their building by foot.

"Have you thought anything about your future, Draco?" Bob was the one to eventually break the silence. "You're still on sick-leave from your office job at the Ministry of Magic. Would you like to go back there?"

"Well, I don't have a choice, do I?" He shrugged his shoulders. "It's my job. It's where I'm employed."

"For now", said Bob calmly. "Nothing says you're forced to stay there. It's your job, but is it the job you want to have? Do you _want_ to work there? There's nothing holding you back from changing your course. You're still young, you know."

"I've never really reflected much about it", Draco admitted. "It was, it is, a job. It gives me money. It's something to fill my days with it. It's tolerable, and I always saw that as good enough."

" _Good enough_.", said Bob, putting down his quill on the table. "I never know what to make out of that expression. Why are we humans always talking about _good enough_? Why are we always settling down with what we get without fighting for more? Why do we always think that we have to be satisfied, when the sky is up there, waiting for us? Why do we think it's not worth it to try and fulfill our dreams?" He waved at a kid who'd spotted him through the window, grinning amiably before turning his attention to Draco again. "That's always been something that bugs me."

"I never really thought much about my career options. I was raised believing that The Dark Lord…"

"Voldemort."

"...That Voldemort would rise once again, and I as a Death Eater would spend my life serving him and his cause, whether I liked it or not. I always thought that would be my life."

"I see. But what if I told you now that your options are unlimited? What would you like to work with, if you could do anything in the whole world?"

"I… I'm not sure."

"Think about it for a moment. Close your eyes. Imagine yourself, living your dream life. What would you be doing? You don't have to come up with an answer today, not even until I see you next time - but think about it."

"I will."

"If there's nothing else you'd like to discuss with me today, I would suggest that we end this session."

"There's nothing else", he confirmed. "Thank you."

"This is my job, Draco." Bob offered him another smile. "You don't have to thank me."

"Can I ask you one last question? Just one?"

"Of course you can. That's what I'm here for."

"Why did you become a therapist?", Draco asked out of genuine curiosity.

"I'm a squib. Born to magical parents and five older siblings with magical abilities, but lacking them myself. It was quite insufferable growing up, being the good-for-nothing little brother. I was teased constantly throughout my childhood, which caused a major depression in my teens."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It got better, you see, like it always does. I finished school with killer grades. I made my own friends. I dated girls. Eventually, I was old enough to move out from my parent's house and start my own life. When I was depressed, though, I realised just how little the Wizarding World knew about it. Most of us did, and still do, ignore it. We don't bother to treat it if it can't be solved with a cheering charm. I wanted to change that, so I studied psychology at a muggle university and then moved on to start my own private business in the Wizarding World."

"That's… really inspiring. Thank you, again." It was with his head full of brand new thoughts and ideas that Draco left the room.

 **xxxxxxxxxxxx**

Five months.

They'd been a couple for five months.

Ginny Weasley couldn't quite wrap her head around it as she left the Quidditch arena after friday evening's practice. It felt like centuries had passed since she'd found the emaciated, dismal wreck of a man in a dark corner of Diagon Alley. At the same time, she felt like that was yesterday.

There had been lots of kisses, lots of sweet words and late nights talking, lots of gestures and romantic walks in Hyde Park, lots of empathy and affection and care. But there hadn't been more. There hadn't been… intimacy. And she still hadn't told him why.

She knew he wanted to - it wasn't that hard figuring it out. She understood the hints and gestures, and she appreciated them. Deep inside, she wanted it too, more than anything else. But there was a seemingly impregnable barrier protecting it, protecting her from anyone ever trying to come close to her sexually ever again, and it wasn't the sort of barrier a simple _Reducto_ could break. It was a scar only partially healed, one whose stitches would shatter and break at the slightest touch. She wanted to let it go, she wanted to move on, but she was unable to do that without ripping the scar and its ugly, clumsily sewn stitches wide open in order for it to heal. She knew she would have to do it, one day. Just not today. Just one more day of ignorance, she told herself day after day, and it was a temporary solution but it was a solution.

They shared a bed - there was no reason for them not to. She didn't find it unpleasant, far from so . It felt only reassuring to have somebody next to her, protecting her against everything just like she protected him. Being close was okay, being close was no problem.

But to feel her heart racing every time Draco kissed her neck too many times, every time he gave the slightest hint about wanting to, to feel her heart racing in the most panicked and terrified sensation - she hated it.

Draco didn't ask. He was kind and accepting, and as soon as she showed him she had no interest in sex whatsoever, he moved over to his side of the bed and they slept. She chided herself for not being brave enough to tell him why.

She had to tell him, sooner or later. She wanted to tell him. She wanted to explain why she behaved like she did, explain that she loved him and wanted to love him in all the ways she could. She wanted to explain that she wanted it too - _Merlin, how she wanted it -_ but she was afraid. So very afraid.

"Ginny?"

"Yeah?"

"You're avoiding me."

The night took no regards to Ginny's fear. It arrived continuously, after every single day, and every night she crawled down next to Draco hoping to avoid the triggers. Sometimes she managed to, sometimes she didn't.

"I'm not avoiding you."

"Well then, could you do me a favor and be honest about something?" He said it with such tenderness, such care, that she felt obliged to respond. "I...I need to ask."

"I guess I could try."

"You don't want a sexual relationship, do you?" The question was so genuine and upfront it shocked her.

"I do", she blurted out instinctively. "I really do. It's just…"

"There's something to this you're not telling me", said Draco matter-of-factly. "I won't force you to. But after all, you were the one that made _me_ start talking about it. I thought maybe I would do the honors this time."  
"You're cute." She let out a sigh and moved closer, shortening the distance between them until they were only inches apart. "I know. I should talk about it. I just… don't know if I can. If I'm ready. " She bit her lip, disgusted with her own cowardice. She sounded so _stupid._

"Hey, you're a Gryffindor." He grabbed her hand. "You guys are _known_ for your rash bravery and foolhardiness. You're _always_ ready."

"And you are in dire need of practising your compliments."  
"I love you too." They both chuckled. "No, but seriously. Sometimes talking about it really, really helps. Holding it in rarely does. Something I've learned in therapy is that you often have to let go in order to move forward."

"You're right. Just… give me a minute."  
"Naturally."

The minute passed to quickly, like time always does when you don't want it to, but Draco was right. She had to talk about it.

So she did. She told him.

Not every little detail. Not about how she'd cried for hours in the bathroom next day soon as Harry left for work. Not how she still always walked a little faster if she heard steps from behind. Not about the sleepless nights and anxious breakdowns and silent tears at the office. Not about the physical pain, the painful and embarrassing reminder of what she'd been through.

But she told him, the first person she'd ever told.

"I'm sorry", was her finishing words. "I'm really sorry."

"For what?" Draco looked confused.  
"For being such a mess of a girlfriend. You deserve better."

"That", he said, "is the most foolish, illogical thing I've ever heard you say. I love _you._ I will love everything that is you, always. I don't love someone who's never gone through anything. I love someone who's a fighter. I love someone who's still alive, despite all the shit she's been through."

"When did you get all philosophical?"

"It's something new I'm trying. You like it?"

"I love you, too", she whispered. "So much."

She kissed him. Slightly at first, then deeper and with more passion. At least she was able to do _this_.


	23. Chapter 22-Kisses

**Chapter 22; Kisses**

 _ **2 months later**_

"So… you're gay." Ron nodded hesitantly, inspecting the cap of his water bottle to avoid uncomfortable eye contact.

"Not exactly", Harry admitted. "More… both."

"Bisexual", said Hermione from her sunbed. "Attracted to both genders. Or Pansexual, attracted to people no matter their gender. Or…"

"Thank you, Hermione. I've already researched them all in detail." Harry made a face and took a sip of his lukewarm soda. "Thanks for the support, though."  
"Naturally."

The ever unshatterable golden trio were all lying on sunbeds, enjoying the sunshine without having to worry about sunburn - magic takes care of those things. After an _almost_ friendly discussion a few weeks earlier, the trio and their whole clique, including partners, had decided for their "awesome outland-trip with friends and lots of parties, also books or other stuff for those uninterested in partying" to go to Crete. They were young, wild and free, and they'd never gone on a normal trip together until now. So far, this trip had been a clear improvement from the horcrux-hunt a few years ago.

The weather was infinitely more pleasing. The food was definitely more exquisite than the mushy, inedible fungus they'd survived on. The people were nicer. There were less fighting. And the best part - there were more kissing.

Connor was an excellent kisser. Not necessarily better than Ginny, but…. yeah. He kind of was. Or maybe that was just Harry.

Still, it was amazing. Every bit of it. The kissing, the talking, the laughing, the joking, the loving. The butterflies in Harry's stomach, making themselves apparent whenever he met Connor's turquoise eyes. It'd been a long, long time since he felt something like this.

The media bothered them at first, of course. _The Chosen One likes boys! The Chosen One is gay!_ There'd been days when Harry had refused to leave the apartment, but Connor always made him.

"They're just jealous, love", he said with his ever so British accent. "They're just jealous."

And Harry believed him. Connor had even made sure they kissed in public, in front of the camera, just to make it clear and put an end to the speculations. Eventually, the media ran out of scandalous headlines.

The media hadn't felt half as bad as the family and friends did. Harry was terrified of the reactions, but thankfully most of his friends had been happy for him. Ron had stared at him for ten minutes straight before Hermione slapped him, George had had trouble breathing from laughing so hard, and Neville had dropped the beer he was holding before he fainted.

But overall, they'd been accepting of his relationship. Of him. Of the obviously not so straight Harry Potter.

Connor was a Slytherin, which was almost as big of a deal as him being a boy. He had the most luscious blonde curls, eyes that Harry wanted to drown in, a sharp jawline and well-toned muscles. He'd always been gay, just not very publically during his Hogwarts years. He had a laugh that made Harry's insides melt into mush, a smile with the same effect, he was witty and loving and admirable and fearless. He was every complimentary word that had ever been used to compliment someone. To have someone like Connor sure made the confusion of _eventually_ being gay, worth it.

 **xxxxxxxxx**

"So, Draco", Hermione took a sip of her red wine. "How's your education going?"

"I just started Muggle University a month back." He made a face. "I haven't gotten very far yet. And it's a _lot_ of work. But it's interesting."

"I can only guess. Psychology is a wildly fascinating subject. How long do you have to study for?"

"Five years. Muggles are quite thorough with their educations." The conversation was making him nervous, but he handled it by folding and unfolding a napkin in his lap. _Coping techniques_ , he repeated to himself. _Coping techniques._

"That's just excessive", argued Ron. "I like the Wizarding World's philosophy a lot more. Math isn't even obligatory!"

"Seeing to your catastrophical compatibility with numbers, it probably should be." Ginny gave her brother an almost friendly nudge.

"Hey! I know a lot of math!"

"What's twenty-four times four?"

"Two thousand?"

Hermione hid her face with a napkin as the rest of the table laughed. Even Draco joined in, unsure at first but still laughing. Laughing was one of the things he still worked at improving, being able to enjoy himself overall, but it was getting easier. It was getting easier and easier every day.

"I picked up a magazine a few weeks back", said Luna with her usual, dreamy voice. "They had a story about you two." She nodded her head towards Harry and Connor.

"That's kind of standard." Harry smiled, more at Connor then at Luna.

"You get used to it", answered Connor, his face angled at Harry's.

"Those two are hopeless." Neville had probably meant for his words to come out as a whisper in his fiancées, Hannah's, ear, but unfortunately they didn't.

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that", said Harry, still not devoting a single ounce of eye contact to anyone else.

"We'll just take it as a compliment." Connor kissed him, and while Harry blushed vigorously during the act, it was obvious they both enjoyed it.

"That's enough, lovebirds!" Ron was the one to break them off. "I think our food is coming."

"It's not", said Hermione. "You just enjoy interrupting people." And before Ron had time to think of a suitable comeback, their lips were connected as well.

"Well, if this is what a dinner with you guys look like, then…" Neville shrugged his shoulders before he and Hannah joined in.

"So I guess this isn't optional", said Ginny, and then her lips were on Draco's, and he wasn't aware of anybody else. She tasted like a sweet combination of alcohol-free champagne and pure perfection, and his napkin fell to the ground as he put his arms around her, answering the kiss passionately and steamy.

The waitress's face expression as she came to serve them their food was priceless.

 **xxxxxxx**

He really was beautiful.

Charcoal hair, glittering eyes, the most adorable nose and the cutest little smile when he was nervous.

Almost everyone had harbored some secret crush on Harry Potter in Connor's year at Hogwarts, even though they were in Slytherin and supposed to hate his guts. The girls had been hysterical, jumping and screaming and crying every time The Chosen One accidentally looked their way. Connor wanted to do the same, but since he apparently couldn't - he'd learned that the hard way - he had to follow the other boys lead, sighing and rolling their eyes soon as Harry's name was mentioned.

No, his Hogwarts years hadn't been much fun. The other boys eventually figured his sexuality out almost before he did, and that was the end of acceptance. The torture begun instead. Jokes that weren't fun. Ignorance. Being left out. Threats, even. They laughed at him, spread false rumours, talked behind his back. Connor graduated with a false reputation of being secretly in love with the janitor, Mr Filch, and never looked back.

His teenage crush on Harry Potter had been long forgotten by then. It was an understatement saying that Connor had been shocked when their paths crossed again, years later.

They were walking along the beach now, their bare feet enjoying the pleasant sensation of sand between toes. It was still light outside, even if barely, and Connor found himself astonished by how well the evening-light suited Harry's appearance.

"You're staring at me, weirdo." Harry gave him a facetious push.

"Quit being so unfathomably beautiful and I'll stop."

"I didn't say I had a problem with it."

"That's great, because I don't plan on quitting." The corners of Connor's mouth turned upwards in a wide grin.

"Jerk."

"You know you love me."  
"When you put it that way." Harry grinned as well, leaned in, and then they were kissing. Again.

 **xxxxxxxxxxx**

Not too far from Harry and Connor, in a hotel room with magnificent sea-view, lay a couple next to each other in bed. One man, one woman. To the outside world, there was nothing special about them, or what they were about to do.

"For real this time?" asked the man.

"For real this time", the woman confirmed.

 **xxxxxxxxxxx**

Hundreds of miles away from the man and woman lay another woman in a bed, though entirely alone. Her hospital bed creaked as she tried to make herself comfortable, but when you've laid in the same bed for over a day, it loses its ability to be just that, comfortable. Now she felt like the bedsprings cut through her skin into her bony back and nested themselves amid her vertebras. Her grey comforter was cold with sweat after a panic attack earlier that day, and there was mustard yellow spots on it from old vomit.

Astoria tried to find something in the room to focus on, something that could take her mind away from her funky reality, but there was not much to look at. The room's furniture consisted of a barred window too high up for her to reach, the bed she lay in, an empty foldable plastic chair and the nightstand next to her, where she kept all her belongings. A self-help book, a diary, a pencil. A plastic glass of water.  
It would be time for the evening dose of pills in a few minutes. That meant a sleeping pill along with the anti-depressants and other bizarre medicines they drugged her with, and sleeping pill meant a few hours of miraculous oblivion. As she continued to stare gloomily at the grey walls, she longed for it.

More than anything, she longed for death, but it seemed to be impossible in places like this. The healers wanted her to get better, they said. They wanted her to get better, that's why they drugged her with medicines that made her body and mind go limp. Apparently, that was the way you got better here.

If better meant lethargic and suicidal, they'd sure succeeded.

She thought a lot about Draco as she lay there, staring at walls, wishing her life away, wishing for a heart attack or anything that would mean painful, instantaneous death. Maybe she should've treated him better, after all.

The door opened, and a chubby latina nurse walked in, carrying a tray.

"Evening dose of medication, miss Greengrass."

"Thank you, Lynda."

So this was her life now, she thought as she swallowed the multi-coloured pills with lukewarm water. In fifteen minutes, the sleeping pill would kick in, and she'd be one day closer to her anticipated and longed-for death.

 **xxxxxxxx**

Only one more chapter to go!


	24. Chapter 23-Whole

**Chapter 23; Whole**

"You came", was Harry's first words as Ginny neared him from behind. He sat with his legs crossed, showing off his lanky but tanned legs in a pair of thoroughly worn jeans shorts.

"Yes. I got your note. I can read, you know." She ignored the fact that she would have sand everywhere afterwards and sat down next to him, hugging her legs.

"I know. I just wasn't sure if you'd come."

"Hey, we dated for three years. Of course I'd come." She gave him a friendly smile, realizing just now that his eyes looked happier than they had done in years. "Whenever you need me."

"I figured we might have a few things to talk about", he said, cheeks blushing from either embarrassment or sunburn - it was hard to tell after three days in sunny Greece.

"Yeah. We might."

"If I ask you a thing, can you be completely honest about it?"

"Brutal honesty is an excellent talent of mine. Feel free."

"What was your reaction when you first heard of Connor and me?" He was drawing with his fingers in the sand and erasing it, over and over again. Drawing and erasing, like tibetian monks create and dismantle their sand mandalas.

"I was shocked", Ginny admitted. "Stunned, at first. Then… I don't know. It took some time getting used to the thought of you being…"

"Gay?"

"Yeah, or well, into other boys, I guess. But I've accustomed. If he makes you happy, I'm happy. Really." She drew a heart in the sand, then another, and another. It was actually kind of relaxing.

"He does."

"What?"

"Make me happy", said Harry. "It's been terribly confusing, and complicated, but… I love him. And he loves me."

"That's not complicated."

"Maybe not. Maybe it's the most complicated thing of all. Love tends to be."

"That's an understatement." Ginny laughed. "Who knew we would both find our own Slytherins one day?"

"Sometimes life surprises you."

"I have to ask you a question as well, though. It's a silly one, but I can't get it out of my head."

"Please don't tell me you're interested in details about my sex life, because everyone seems to be these days."

"I'm fine, but thank you for the kind offering, I appreciate it."

"Shut your mouth and ask your question." He pretended to shove her into the sand, laughter seeping through his faked anger.

"What we had - was that for real? Because I don't think I'll ever stop wondering." She continued drawing hearts in the sand, avoiding eye contact to make it easier.

"Yes." Silence. "It was."

"Did you love me? Like you love him?"

"I loved you. Just as much. But I love him in present tense, and you in past."

"Thank you." Silence again, now from Ginny. "Can I ask you another, even sillier, question?"

"Shoot."

"Do I have good taste in men?" There was a second of absolute silence before they both burst into uncontrollable, hysterical chuckling.

"Well", Harry said, struggling to keep a somewhat serious tone, "I can't say I've _never_ thought of Draco like that..."

 **xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Spring came surprisingly early to London that year, and no one was happier about it than Draco. Bob had once mentioned something to him about how seasons can affect your mood and even cause depression in some cases, but Draco had thought of it as a whole lot of crap. It was only as spring finally arrived that he realised Bob had been right.

"You're awfully quiet today." Draco hadn't realised just how lost in thought he'd been until Ginny's voice brought him back to reality. It was Saturday, they were both free from Quidditch practice and studies, and they'd chosen to celebrate the sudden arrival of spring with a walk in Hyde Park.

"Sorry. Just tired." He squeezed her hand, letting her know he was fine.

"You're working too hard on your studies, you know. Relax. You're doing fine."

"I just really want to do my best."

"Remember that I love you." She leaned in, giving him a small peck on the lips. Draco frowned.

"If you're going to fake-kiss me like that, I can't promise anything."

"Oh, get over yourself." Ginny just rolled her eyes. "Coffee?"

"Coffee."

They bought their drinks from a grumpy-looking muggle in skinny jeans and a lime green apron and found an unoccupied bench, which was easier said than done on a saturday in London.

"The day we really talked for the first time", said Ginny, sipping her latte, "we sat on this bench, didn't we?"

"Frankly, I'm not sure." Draco blushed. "But yeah. This might've been it. You bought me coffee that day as well."

"Yeah, well, I earn more money than you."

"If you don't shut up I'll punch you."

"Go on." She laughed, and even though it was a cheesy cliché, it was a melody to his ears. Nobody had a better laugh than Ginny.

They drank their coffees in silence, but it was a pleasant, effortless one. The kind when you just don't have the need to talk. The kind when you know each other well enough not to need it.

"Why did you save me that night?" Ginny's head rested upon Draco's shoulder, and he buried his nose in her glistening hair, warm from the sun. "I've asked you before, but… I never really got an answer."

"That's because I'm not sure I have one to offer."

"Try", she demanded. "I'm curious."

"Because I wanted to. That enough?" Two teenage girls with hair in pastel colours walked by, holding hands. Draco and Ginny watched with a smile as the couple shared a tender kiss.

"Not really."

"Fair enough. Maybe I just had a feeling that I needed to. That if I did it, it would lead to something good. Do you believe in fate?"

"Only when it comes to us." Draco grinned.

"Ugh. Cliché, dragon-boy."

" _Dragon-boy?"_

"It's your new nickname."

"If I didn't love you so much you'd be dead already, Weasleygirl", Draco declared and pressed his coffee-tasting lips against hers, almost forcefully.

"You have to stop doing that", said Ginny, panting, afterwards. "Takes my breath away."

"Can I ask you a thing?"

"Doesn't feel like I have much of a choice, you'll just kiss me again", she said, faking grumpiness. Draco snickered.

"Weasleygirl - would you ever want to get married to me?"

 **xxxxxxxxxxx**

 **-1 year later-**

It was late at night, and Draco was running the streets of London. Up and down, turning a corner, down that street, ignoring the odd glances from drunk strangers outside bars, smoking their foul-tasting cigarettes that always made him cough. He ran, and ran, and ran, ignoring the fact that he was wearing black boots and not proper running shoes, a suit jacket instead of a synthetic t-shirt. He ran in a desperate try to silence the thoughts in his brain, trying to make the screaming stop, sort his mind out, but they refused to quieten and he was stuck with them. He stopped at a corner to catch his breath and realised just then how much he was sweating. Disgusting. He would have to take a shower when he got home. If he got home, that was. If he was brave enough to return. Returning home would mean facing her, which he was stupidly afraid to do.

 _Silly, silly, silly,_ the voices shouted. _You're silly, Draco. No sane person reacts like this. You're crazy, Draco. You're a psycho, you're nuts. You're a freak, freak, freak._ He started running again.

He probably was crazy. He should've been happy about this. They were married - he needed only to glance at his left hand to remind himself of that. They were young, but not abnormally so. Neither of them were the broody type, but they'd agreed on that yes, perhaps one day. It had sounded so easy when they said it, but most of all it'd felt like far away.

Still. He should've been elated, but felt only despair.

He was thankful she hadn't told him face to face. He would've lost it then, and she would've hexed him right there on the spot. No, she'd been really subtle about it, as if she'd known it'd be hard for him. Just one of those plastic sticks resting on the kitchen counter, a note pinned to it, telling him she loved him.

Draco had still freaked out, and that's why he was running now, running, running, running. Running away. From adultery, from responsibility, from feelings, from being a human and from being alive.

He'd run out of energy to run, and he crouched against a wall to stabilize his breathing.

 _A father._ Draco had never wished to be a father, not after his own childhood. His father must've been a good person once. What if having a child would make Draco evil as well?

 _Could he be a father? Did he even know how? Did he have the capability to?_ He knew nothing about kids or what they needed. They needed to eat and sleep and have their nappies changed. That was about all the knowledge he had. He'd held Ginny's brothers kids for short periods of time, had even babysat Teddy once, but at the end of the day there had always been someone to return them to.

 _Could he love a child?_ No. Maybe, if he tried hard enough? He wasn't sure. Merlin - this was all… bovine. Moronic.

All he knew when it came to this was that he had an indelible love for Ginny and everything that was her, every little thing she did and wanted to do.

 _Would it be enough?_ It would have to be, even though it probably wasn't. Either way, he turned around, starting on his long walk back home without caring about what the choice to return home would mean.

She was asleep when he got home, her auburn hair spread over the pillow in an adorable mess. She was breathing slowly but surely, her chest rising and sinking. She looked just like she always did, her beauty and presence an indescribably valuable fixed point in the ever changing world, and yet it felt like he was seeing her for the first time. Still, he always felt that way.

Draco undressed as quietly as he could, down to nothing but boxers, and snuck into the bed.

He folded his arms around her muscular quidditch shoulders, pressed his nose against her neck only to breathe in the flowery scent of her. Nothing could make him feel more peaceful than that smell.

He could come up with a million things that was wrong with this gesture - it was too cheesy, too immature, too classical, too intimate - but he took her right hand in both of his and placed over her still immaculately flat stomach.

 **xxxxxxxxxxxx**

 **-2 months later-**

Draco could feel the chilly sensation of their bathroom clinker against his face, and he knew before it even started exactly what was going on. _Damn it_ , he whispered to himself. _Not now. Not when it's been so long._

But it was far too late to restrain it. His heart was speeding already, beating so hard he was sure it would make his chest explode. Breathing was getting harder, and he couldn't breathe couldn't breathe _couldn't breathe_ and then the tears were forcing their way down blushed cheeks and he was crying, silent, ragged, ugly sobs. He was going to die. He was officially going to die like this. The black and white pattern of the clinker would be the last thing he ever saw, and even that was blurry from tears. He was shaking - why was he shaking? It didn't matter, because he was going to die now, this was it. He curled himself into fetus position, trying to relax his limbs, but neither heart nor lungs nor brain would cooperate and he was stuck trying not to choke on his hasty breath. He closed his eyes, attempting to ease the vertigo and stop the walls from spinning. It worked terribly.

 _Why was this happening again? He'd been so sure it'd stopped for good._ Draco was still crying, even though breathing felt marginally easier now. The thoughts of self-harm was slowly creeping onto him, teasing him and taunting him, promising him that the sensation of sharp metal against soft skin would calm him, would release him from this dreadful and nightmarish state.

 _Why did it always have to be like this?_ He struggled to take control of his breathing. Breathe in, breathe out. It was supposed to be easy.

 _Because this is who you are, Draco,_ the voices whispered. _This is who you are. An anomaly. A freak. This is all you will ever deserve._

There were razor blades somewhere in this bathroom, there had got to be, for sure. Which bathroom doesn't have any razors?

And then, just like that, his heartbeat began to normalize and he threw himself over the toilet sink, dry-heaving with nausea. _What had he done to deserve this now?_ He raised himself up on vibrating legs, stumbling towards the bathroom cupboard, opening it with equally vibrating hands. There was a razor somewhere, he knew it, and it didn't take him long to find it. Just a few twists, and the blades would be loose - he'd clumsily enough forgot his wand in the kitchen. He still knew how to do this, didn't he?

He was standing like an idiot with the razor in his right hand when the bathroom door flew open. That's when the crying started anew.

She had to force the razor out of his hand, but eventually, he let it go, collapsing onto the floor once again. She didn't utter a single word. She just lay down next to him, grabbed his hand, placing it on top of her heart. Then she placed her own over his heart, and the two of them rested there, sensing each other's heartbeats, Draco crying, neither of them speaking.

"I'm sorry", Draco whispered. "I'm so sorry for being like this. You shouldn't need to deal with this."

"I signed up for it, didn't I?" She rolled her eyes and tucked one of his untamed bangs behind his ear. "In sickness and in health, and all that."

"Doubt they were thinking of panic syndrome when they came up with that", he managed to verbalize, though almost inaudible.

"Why not? Mental illnesses are illnesses like any other."

"I suppose. I just hate it, you know?" Draco asked. Ginny nodded, then stood up and rummaged in the closet for a few seconds before throwing him a white paper box with a doctor's note pinned to it. He caught it, thanking his quidditch reflexes.

"Anxiety medication."

"Lucky me. This will put me to sleep in minutes."

"Sounds amazing. I could use the company." She yawned.

"Shit. I forgot. You were sleeping. Did I wake you?" He could feel his eyes widening in sheer terror of having done something wrong. "Merlin - I wasn't supposed to, you _really_ shouldn't have to…"

"Be quiet, take your medication, and join me in bed - I did _not_ mean it that way - before I hex your mouth off."

The medication made him drowsy almost instantly, but he didn't mind. Their unmade bed was comfy - yes, almost still warm, and resting his head upon a fluffy pillow was a welcome feeling. The panic had not quite left his body, not fully released him from its grip, and he was sweating so badly he'd had to pull off his T-shirt to avoid it getting soaked. But he was able to breathe, which he appreciated.

Ginny's head was lying on top of his warm chest. Even a year or two ago, Draco would've resented that closeness and and intimacy in moments like this, but now it was since long the only thing that without fault made him feel better. It was the very definition of safety, and perhaps, of love.

"I love you", he whispered, a reminder both to himself and to her. "So much."

"You're a dork. You know that, right?"

"My apologizes."

"Don't." She reached for his hand, kissing it. "I love you, too."

"How are you? I still feel awful about waking you. I didn't mean to, I really didn't. You needed that rest, and I'm so very sorry for interrupting it." He talked fast, like he often did when anxious.

"Hey - stop it", protested Ginny. "I may feel like I have a terrible hangover I can do close to nothing about and I'm unceasingly unsure whether I want to sleep for a day, empty the contents of my stomach or just cry because life's unfair - but if you for a second believe that I won't put all that aside in a heartbeat to be there for you, you're wrong. I'm handling this. It's fine."

"I love you for doing this."

"Whatever. It wasn't like you had much of a choice. My body, my rules."

"I still love you for it."

"Thank you." She yawned, closing her eyes again.

"And I'm sorry for being such a broken mess of a person", he mumbled, mostly to himself. Ginny didn't answer, and he wondered if she'd fallen asleep again when she spoke-

"We're all broken, Draco. But if you glue two broken pieces together, there's always a chance they might fit."

 **Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

 **5 months later**

The enchanted watch on his wrist showed five past three in the morning, and every limb of his body screamed for sleep; yet he had never felt any less sleepy than this.

If he looked out the window, he could see the skeletons of naked trees swaying back and forth in the frosty, early november night. Any other night it would've been a depressing view, but tonight, nothing could touch him.

Nothing could touch _them_ tonight.

Not him. Not Ginny. And not the child in his arms.

Draco felt like he hadn't properly breathed in hours, and was finally able to do so. It sounded quite likely he _hadn't_ properly breathed - it'd been pretty intense. (And bloody, but he'd handled it.)

Ginny was sleeping now, enjoying some well needed rest, and so was the child in his arms.

A tuft of ginger hair was visible under the white little hat, but the child had inherited his ice blue eyes. The sharp nose was was his, the mouth was Ginny's.

He had examined the child's features like this for more than an hour, looking for traits they shared, searching for proof this little person with tiny, tiny fists really belonged to them. How on earth had they possibly deserved something so blissfully beautiful?

Draco had never felt so many things at the same time, but for once in his life, not being able to sort out his feelings didn't give him anxiety. There was no anxiety at all. There was only consciousness and peace and a profound, deeply rooted love for the bundle of blankets in his arms, a love already too huge to be put into words.

It was as if the stars had finally aligned, and suddenly, everything was right and nothing could ever be wrong anymore. Nothing could touch them, because he would never allow it to.

There was a soft, barely audible, cry from the baby in his arms, but he silenced it simply by taking the child's fist between his thumb and index finger. He was there, and he would always be there.

"I will never allow anything to hurt you", he whispered in her ear. "Never." And nothing had ever been truer than those words in that moment.

He would protect this child with his life, for as long as he lived.

Draco had thought he'd known magic, and he'd thought he'd known love, but he realised now that until this moment, he hadn't.

 **Xxxxxxxxxxxx**

 **6 months later**

Ginny took a deep breath, filling her lungs with the mildly plastic smell of new muggle trains as the vehicle rustled to life and started transporting them forward on the tracks. They were finally on their way. _They'd made it._ Or at least they would have, in a couple of hours.

"If I knew taking this trip would be such hard work before even getting on the train, I would've refused to." Draco kept his voice down, although it didn't seem to be needed. Lou was sleeping soundly in her child safety seat - the kind that muggles use for cars - at their feet, and the faint hum of small-talk and the movements from the train was not affecting her the slightest.

"It means a lot to Luna." Ginny smiled and took his hand in hers. "I really hope we didn't forget anything."

"I'm pretty sure I can come up with at least three things", he grumbled. "And I _wrote a list_."

"Wow." She laughed. "Now _that's_ impressive. Quill and paper?"

"Quill and paper."

"Now I'm _really_ impressed."

"Rightfully so." He squeezed her hand and focused his gaze on their daughter. The sleeves of his navy sweater had been rolled up, and she could see the faded scars where she knew they were positioned. He cried about them sometimes, telling her he thought they were ugly and he hated them, telling her exactly how ashamed he was of them, asking her how she could possibly still love him. "They don't make you weak," she always told him. "They simply mean you were stronger than whatever tried to hurt you. Everyone has scars, you just wear them on the outside." He usually stopped crying after that.

It was hard for her sometimes to remember the person he'd been. It seemed far away, blurry and hard to recall. She couldn't see that man when she looked at him anymore. Once she'd seen a broken soul, shards of a person that bore so much potential but had no one to help him reclaim it. She'd seen misery, but with the undoubtable potential of becoming something beautiful.

Now she saw a whole different person, a beautiful person, the only man in her life and the person she loved second to most in this world.

Lou started whining, and before Ginny was there to comfort her, Draco was. He unbuckled her from the straps, and lifted her so that she could rest against his chest.

"It's okay, darling", she could hear him whisper. "Everything's okay." And sure enough, the whimpers had already stopped.

"George surely knew what he was talking about when he told me you had it in you", she said, carefully stroking her daughter's ginger curls. "She loves you."

"I think she loves you more. It's not much of a competition anyway - you have the food."

"Yeah, but that's just anatomy. Why are we competing about this?"

"Nothing like a good competition to decide who's the better parent?" Draco proposed, and they both laughed.

"I love you, you know. Even if I forget to tell you that sometimes. I really, really, love you", she whispered.

"I love you more." He leaned towards her, giving her the slightest of kisses. "And I'll kiss you better tonight. When she's sleeping."

"And we're not on a train."

"Yes. You'll have to do until then." He grinned, and it was the most adorable of grins, like it always had been and always would be.

"That's a bummer. " Ginny kissed Lou on the forehead and took her tiny right hand in hers. "At least I have this one. Who still loves you more."

Draco looked like he was about to protest, but they were interrupted by the train coming to an abrupt halt and a monotone voice in the speakers informing them that there was something wrong with the train, and they would have to stand still for a while before it was fixed.

Muggle trains.

She'd never been very fond of them.


	25. Author's Note

So… this is it.

This story starts on a train, and since it was on a train I got this idea, I wanted it to end there, too. I'm actually rather found of trains, unlike Ginny.

I only wrote a few chapters of this when I first started this. It wasn't long before I ran out of ideas; I was deep in my eating disorder at the time and I stopped doing, well, everything. Including writing.

But this story stayed, and when I got better, I couldn't get Draco or Ginny out of my head. Eventually, I had to continue writing this. It turned out being something entirely different from what I had first pictured, but I'm rather pleased with the result. :')

It's the first fanfiction I've ever written that hasn't been all lovey-dovey and happy. Instead of writing a perfect world with perfect characters, I wanted something else. It's been a great experience, and I'm so thankful you've been a part of it.

If you're dealing with problems similar to Draco's, or if you've been through something like Ginny, seek help. Always seek help. You shouldn't have to live like that, and you don't have to. Life can get better, and if there was something I wanted to tell with this fanfiction, it was that.

This is scary. I hate finishing things like this. I'm never sure what to do after. I'm not sure I want to write another fanfiction, but if I do… you'll know. For now, I think it's time for more creative writing and more of my own projects.

Lots of love to you all.


End file.
